All I Know
by bantam-shine
Summary: Summer before seventh year. Ron and Hermione. Completely alone at The Burrow. How ever will they occupy themselves? Written before HBP. RHr.
1. Ch 1: Some things I can't get used to

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: I had to get the background information out of the way to make room for the Ron/Hermione lovin' that will come.  Read and review.  Please?

Chapter One: Some things I can't get used to

For the first time in his life, sixteen-year-old Ron Weasley was home alone on a Saturday morning.

The Burrow in its current state defied the laws of nature.  Rather than bustling with the activity of the Weasley parents and at least five of their seven children, it was peaceful.  The circumstance in which The Burrow came to be deserted was completely coincidental.

Last autumn with the beginning of Ron, Harry, and Hermione's sixth year attending Hogwarts came an attack on Hogsmeade village.  Specifically, an attack The Leaky Cauldron and all its patrons as executed by ten masked Death Eaters, three Dementors, and one giant.  Amidst flying hexes and curses, Cornelius Fudge was kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy and taken to the dungeons in the Malfoy Manor.  Fudge was tortured to the point of insanity.  Much to his dismay, Mad-Eye Moody saved Fudge and took him to St. Mungo's, where Fudge shares a room with Gilderoy Lockhart.  The two bonded over autographing pictures of themselves and vaguely recalling their glory days as famous blokes.    

Since the higher-ranking jobholders in the Ministry of Magic were mostly Death Eaters (who had quit, anyway), Mr. Weasley was promoted to Minister of Magic.  By combining the members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army, and Voldemort-hating witches and wizards worldwide, Harry Potter led the crusade against the Dark Lord.  Hogwarts first through third years were sent home.  If their parents were fighting the war, they were put in the care of Mrs. Weasley and a network of witches who were experts in childrearing.  The rest of Hogwarts' students as well as the faculty were trained to help the war effort.

For four months, battles raged on and by New Year's Eve, only five Death Eaters remained.  Not to say there were no casualties on the other side.  Twenty witches and wizards kept Fudge company at St. Mungo's.  But with Dumbledore on their side, only those foolish enough to not heed his commands died.  New Year's Eve was the last battle of the war and the last battle between Harry and Voldemort.  While the rest of the Voldemort-haters were fighting the remaining Death Eaters and giants, Harry and Voldemort faced each other.  Attempting to kill Harry again with Avada Kedavra, priori incantatem connected their wands and formed a golden web around them.  Each of Voldemort's victims appeared in their echo form, as they did during the Triwizard Tournament two years before.  As soon as Harry saw his parents again, he pulled something out of his robes pocket and jerked away.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted, aiming Sirius's wand at Voldemort.  During the summer, Harry had found it among the possessions he had discovered Sirius bequeathed to him.  The green beam of light shot out of the wand.

Unprepared, Voldemort could do nothing to deflect the curse—except drop dead.

By midnight on New Year's Day, Voldemort was dead and the last Death Eater—Lucius Malfoy—was taken to Azkaban, where Dementors were longer guards.  Instead, they too were imprisoned.  Over the summer, Hagrid cross-bred blast-ended skrewts with sphinxes and spiders, creating the most clever and frightening guards Azkaban had ever seen.  As expected, the rest of the school year did not go as planned.  O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s were cancelled and the rest of the term consisted of laidback classes that covered the broad ideas, but no specifics, and no exams.  The day the Golden Trio's sixth year at Hogwarts ended and summer began, Ron stood in the kitchen found that one by one, his family was leaving The Burrow.

"Ronniekins, your father and I haven't had a proper holiday alone—" Mrs. Weasley interrupted by Mr. Weasley giving her a smirk and wiggling his eyebrows as he magically packed their suitcases.  She turned and giggled at him, slapping his shoulder playfully.  Mr. Weasley retaliated with a slap on her bum.  Blushing, then regaining her composure, she turned back to Ron, "—since our honeymoon."

"But Mum…" Ron tried to ignore Mr. Weasley whistling that American singer Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe".

Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand to clean up the kitchen where they stood. "Ginny will be home!  You two can take care of The Burrow while we're gone."

Ginny shuffled down the stairs with suitcases of her own, "No I won't, Mum.  I'm going to Diagon Alley with Fred and George.  They need someone to do their bookkeeping properly."

Mrs. Weasley looked alarmed.

"Mum, everything's fine—they're not bankrupt!" Ginny waved a hand and Mrs. Weasley sighed with relief, "They just need to budget their spending a bit at the shop.  Y'know, spend less on dragon-hide suits and more on research for new products."  

"Well then, you can keep an eye on those two—make sure they don't get themselves in too many scrapes."  Mrs. Weasley shook her head half-disapprovingly, half-amusedly at the thought of her twin entrepreneurs.  "Bill and Fleur should be—"

"They're spending the summer in Paris with Fleur's family." Ron interrupted. 

Immediately after the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur slipped a scrap of parchment with her address on it into Bill's robes.  Their mail correspondence was highlighted by visits to England and France on holidays, then a year later, an engagement.  Must've been the dragon tooth earring that won Fleur, that part-Veela vixen, over. 

Mrs. Weasley started again, "Well, Charlie will be coming back from Romania for—"

"No, he decided to take the trip to Bulgaria—apparently, there's a new type of dragon—"

"Oh yes, yes, my mistake."  She tapped her chin, then glanced at Ginny who was inching towards the fireplace.  "Ginny!  Come here, dear." She planted a kiss on Ginny's head as Ginny threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, "Be good.  Don't let Fred and George influence you while you're staying with them."

Ginny nodded obediently with a mischievous smile, "I will, Mum. Bye Ron."

"Bye Gin." Ron said glumly and shuddered from fright.  Mr. Weasley was doing a victory dance of sorts.

As Ginny crammed her and her suitcases into the fireplace, she shouted, "Diagon Alley!"

A realization dawned upon Mrs. Weasley, "I don't see why I hadn't thought of this before! Why don't you invite Harry and Hermione to keep you company?"

Ron perked up a bit, then his face fell. "Harry's interning with Mad-Eye—" Mrs. Weasley gave him a Look. "—er, Alastor Moody for the summer.  Training before actual training to become an Auror and the like.  Probably wanted to get his mind off of all that he's gone through."

Mrs. Weasley nodded emphatically, "Poor dear." She paused, "It doesn't mean that Hermione can't come, though, does it?"

Ron paused, "No… Wait, you'd actually trust us by ourselves?! Not that there's anything going on between us, but…"

Mr. Weasley grabbed Mrs. Weasley's hand and put his other arm around her waist.  Her other hand went to his shoulder and the two proceeded to waltz around the kitchen, the two laughing like newlyweds.  Ron rolled his eyes, "You two have a brilliant time.  Get out of here before you make me sick." He grinned at his parents, who stopped dancing and looked at their youngest son.

"Behave, Ronniekins.  And don't tear The Burrow to shreds."  Mrs. Weasley reached up and pinched both of Ron's cheeks and tiptoed to kiss each.  Ron had grown even more over the school year.  Ron stood at six foot-four and had obtained a lean and muscular frame via Quidditch over the years.

"There's nothing to worry about, Molly.  He's not Fred.  Or George.  Or Bill who had that party—" Mr. Weasley stroked his chin, but was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley.

"Now, now, Arthur, we mustn't give the boy ideas." Suddenly, she was a bit teary-eyed, "Oh, my little Ronniekins is growing up…staying home by himself with Hermione—" She stopped mid-sentence. "Hold on a minute…"

"Molly, I think we should be going.  We don't want to miss the cruise to The Pajamas…"

"The Bahamas, Arthur. The Bahamas." Mrs. Weasley said as she tidied up here and there with a flick of her wand and made her way to the living room.

"Right, right."  Mr. Weasley clapped a hand to Ron's shoulder and lowered his voice, "Don't turn Hermione into _too _much of a scarlet woman, eh?" He elbowed Ron in the ribs with a chuckle.

"Dad!" Ron blushed furiously, "Hermione and I are just—"

"Mates?" Mr. Weasley gave his son a skeptical look, "At any rate, she's a good _mate_ to have.  As a red-blooded British bloke, I'm sure you completely disregard the fact that she's blossomed into quite the pretty young woman."

Ron scowled, "Dad, I've told you before—"

"Ask her about batteries for me when she comes, will you?" Mr. Weasley gave him a wink, then held his wife's hand and their suitcase, "We'll be back by the end of the summer." With that, they Apparated to the dock of the cruise-line that would take them to The "Pajamas".

Ron sighed and headed upstairs to write Hermione.  As he shut the door to his room, he glanced around.  Clothes were strewn across the floor, his school trunk had yet to be unpacked, his bed wasn't made, Chudley Cannons posters adorned his walls, and a few scraps of written-on parchment, quills, inkwells and picture frames were on his desk.  He picked up a picture taken of him, Harry, and Hermione on their last day of sixth year.  Harry smiled wistfully as Hermione and Ron tried to shove each other out of the frame.  Hermione and Ron had grown closer over the year, being Prefects and due to Harry's tendency to distance himself from people with all of the problems he'd had to deal with.  Though they still argued constantly, they hadn't had a row in ages.  Their arguing had turned into playful banter accented by friendly shoves and the occasional "appropriate situation" hugs.  Hugs goodbye, comforting hugs, hugs after he thought he'd hit her too hard and the like.

Ron's blue eyes darted towards the fellytone—er, telephone—that his dad "worked on" and gave to him.  No, that wasn't the name of it—it was a stellar phone…no, a molecular phone…no, that wasn't it, either.  A cellular phone!  Yes.  Perhaps he could give it a try.  He knew not to yell over it, this time.  Besides, it had been a week since he had heard Hermione's voice.  _Whiny git. She's just your mate. No, your best mate. Like Harry's your best mate.  Okay, maybe not…_  Picking it up, he pushed the power button and referenced a scrap of parchment with Hermione's telephone number before dialing.

One ring…two rings…

"Hello?" A man answered, presumably Dr. Granger.

"Er—Dr. Granger?"

"Yes?" His voice was gravelly.

"This is Ron. Ron Weasley." Ron stammered, "I-I was w-wondering…ifHermionewasavailable?"

Dr. Granger chuckled, "Yes she is, Ron.  She's right here."    __

A muffled squeal came from the other line, "Dad, don't say anything embarrassing…"

For some reason, that made Ron's stomach flop. _Must be because I didn't eat breakfast.  But I did!  Well, must've been Mum's cooking.  Since when has Mum's cooking _ever _upset my stomach? _

Dr. Granger began in over-exaggerated tones, "Ron, did I tell you about the time when Hermione was a wee thing and immediately after she was given a bath, she ran outside—"

Ron snickered.  _Baby Hermione naked running through the streets! Not quite the same as a sixteen-year-old Hermione naked running through—bloody hell! I'm a randy old bastard…_

"Ron!" Hermione grabbed the phone from her dad and was blushing, "I wasn't expecting to hear for you until—well, until you remembered! And Merlin knows how long _that _usually takes…  How are you?" Hermione rattled on excitedly. 

"I remember things!" He said haughtily.

She inhaled, then exhaled loudly, "Sorry.  Just a bit—surprised you used a _fellytone_…"  _He hates using telephones.  How I've missed his voice.  Ack, I sound like a bird from the romantic comedy films!  _

Ron's throat went dry._ I should use cellular phones more often—that way, I can tell if she's excited to talk to me. No, no, you git. She wouldn't be excited to talk to _you_, just excited to talk to _anyone _on the felly--telephone._  He swallowed, then replied, "Actually, Dad gave me a cellular phone, and I figured it'd be faster than owling.  I-I was wondering if you'd like to stay at The Burrow with me."

_Yes! Absolutely! _"Alright."  Hermione paused, "Hold on.  You said _with me_.  What do you mean?" __

"Yeah, heh." Ron gulped again, then started rambling, "That's the funny thing--everyone else is on holiday elsewhere since Bill and Fleur are in Paris and Charlie's in Bulgaria and Ginny's with the twins at Diagon Alley and Mum and Dad are going to the Pajamas, I mean Bahamas as their first proper holiday since their honeymoon and Mum didn't want me to be alone, so she told me I should invite you and Harry but I told her that Harry was doing pre-training with Mad Eye but she said I could invite you anyway since we're just mates and she knows nothing would happen if it's okay with your parents then you can stay all summer—"

Hermione giggled.  "Ron, you're rambling."

Ron's face grew hot. "Yes, well.  Ask your parents, will you?  I'll die of boredom, if you don't."

"I shall!  Right now!  Be back in a minute…" Hermione pressed the hold button on the phone and set it down on the kitchen table where her parents were sitting and reading the newspaper.

Ron found himself listening to a Muzak version of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe".  _Damn, I really can't escape that Barry White bloke, can I?_

"Mum? Dad?" She stood between her parents at the little round table.  Little did she know that the hold function on the phone was broken and only lasted for one verse of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe".

"Yes?" her father Dr. Granger's eyes were twinkling.

"Can I stay at Ron's house?" She shifted from one foot to the other impatiently.  _Me and Ron for a summer _alone_ at The Burrow. Me and Ron for a summer _without supervision_ at The Burrow!  Eek, nothing to get wound up over.  It's just…Ron.  My best mate Ron.  With his bright blue eyes and big rough hands—and you know what they say about big hands.  Merlin, I'm a pervert._

"For how long?" her mother Dr. Granger raised an eyebrow.

"The summer." Hermione attempted to suppress a smile.

The doctors Granger exchanged amused yet concerned glances.

"Hermione darling, are his parents there?" her father Dr. Granger asked. 

By this time, Ron began to hear every word of their conversation.

"Well, er—you see…no." Hermione sighed, then explained. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are going on their first real holiday since their honeymoon—"

"Wow…" her mother Dr. Granger whistled, imagining what it would be like to _not _go on holiday every year.

"—and Fred and George—"

"The twins?" her father Dr. Granger interjected.

"Yes, they are running their joke shop in Diagon Alley, plus Ginny is accompanying them for the summer and Charlie is in Bulgaria—"

"The one who works with dragons." Her mother Dr. Granger affirmed.

"Yes, and Bill and Fleur are in Paris with _her _parents—"

"Bill's the one with long hair, right?" her father Dr. Granger asked.

"YES, and Percy—" Hermione was growing tired of being interrupted.

"The prat who disowned them." Her mother Dr. Granger shook her head vehemently.

"YES! And Percy disowned them, leaving Ron all alone at The Burrow." Hermione finished in a huff.

"Guess you'll have to _keep him company_, then." Her mother Dr. Granger insinuated with a smirk.

Ron squirmed in his desk chair.  _So they know _all _about my family and me.  Means she's talked about me!  Well of course she's talked about you, you git.  You're her best mate.  Naturally, best mates talk about each other a lot. _

Hermione rolled her doe-like brown eyes, "Mu-um!"

"Ron is a _very _handsome boy—" her mother Dr. Granger began.

"Yes, yes, I know." Hermione waved a hand.

_She thinks I'm handsome! _Ron's chest puffed up with pride.

"So you don't deny _that you think he's handsome_?" her father Dr. Granger got louder towards the end, knowing that the hold function on the phone was broken.

"No, I don't." She raised her chin defiantly, "Now will you two stop teasing me and get on with the decision-making?"

"A bit antsy, aren't we, poppet?" her mother Dr. Granger snickered, "Yes, of course you can go.  Just behave.  And be _safe_."

Hermione's eyes widened, scandalized, "MUM!"

"You're a sixteen-year-old girl, poppet.  Not a saint." Her mother Dr. Granger replied.

"Your mother wasn't a saint after I was through with her…" her father Dr. Granger squeezed his wife's hand.

"Okay, I'm going to pack and leave before you two take a stroll down memory lane …" Hermione shuddered and picked up the telephone, "Ron? You still there?"

"Yeah." He was beaming.

"I can go!" Hermione squeaked.

"Brilliant! When can you come?" He asked eagerly.

"Right after I pack. I can Floo. Oh, wait, no I can't Floo—could you—er—" She paused.

"I'll be over there in…" He consulted his watch, "…five minutes?"

"Excellent.  See you then?" She asked, as though needing a confirmation.

"Yeah. Bye, poppet." He grinned so widely that he cheeks ached and hung up.

_Poppet… Did he hear…? Merlin, I'm going to kill him once he gets here! _

Author's note: And that was the first chapter of my first Harry Potter fic.  Like it? Hate it? Review and tell me, please! 


	2. Ch 2: No matter how I try

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: Thank you _so _much for the grand reviews! You guys are awesome! Feedback inspires me to write. ;-) _This _chapter was supposed to be the one entitled "No matter how I try".

Chapter Two: No matter how I try

Hastily, Hermione put the cordless phone into its cradle in the kitchen. She rushed upstairs to her room and flicked her wand whilst muttering spells to pack. She put two month's worth of books into one trunk and "Reducio"-ed her clothes and toiletries to fit into a small suitcase. Tapping her forehead, she tried to think of anything she forgot. She decided to take her CD's and shrink her stereo into the same suitcase as her clothes. Crookshanks purred from his usual spot on Hermione's bed.

"Crookshanks! I'm going to be leaving. I'll be staying with Ron for the rest of the summer." Seeing Crookshanks' brow crease, she consoled him. "But Mum and Dad will bring you to Platform 9 ¾ on the day we take the train back to school, alright?" Hermione looked to Crookshanks for any sign of recognition. Crookshanks merely purred and raised his head to be petted. "That's a good kitty…"

Crookshanks' mouth curled into a sly smile akin to that of the Cheshire Cat. _So. She and Ron, eh? If something doesn't happen between them this summer, I'll have to do something drastic. _

BANG!

Hermione jumped.

Following the bang downstairs came clattering and sputtering.

_Ron! _Hermione sighed happily. She caught herself in the mirror and was horrified. _I did _not _just sigh about _Ron's _arrival! _She magicked her suitcase and trunk to follow her down the stairs as she descended to meet a rather disheveled Ron.

"Hermione!" He stopped brushing soot off of his clothes—a white Chudley Cannons shirt that had shrunken over the years from frequent wear, jeans, and ratty black Converse All-Stars—to look up at her. His lips stretched into a broad grin as he took in the sight of her. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head and she wore a small yellow t-shirt with a white daisy on it and jeans. She was barefoot and her toenails were painted pink.

Hermione took a tentative step towards him and absentmindedly brushed his bangs out of his bright blue eyes. His red hair had grown into the ever-popular emo-boy hairstyle—long bangs and long enough to curl at the nape of his neck. "Ron…" She smiled back at him as the hand that brushed his bangs out of his eyes came to rest on his shoulder.

Over the past year, aside from the playful shoves and "situation appropriate" hugs, Hermione had formed a habit of fixing Ron's bangs. While she liked his hair long, she hated when his bangs obstructed his eyes. Likewise, when Hermione's curls sprung out of her ponytail or bun, Ron would tuck the errant strands behind her ear. There was something about these hair-fixing gestures than met the eye, it seemed. Tenderness? Deep-seated love? An uncontrollable hair fetish? Probably not…more than likely, it was another excuse for them to get in each other's face and touch each other.

He stepped forward, approximately an inch away from her and staring into her dark brown eyes, then threw his arms around her waist. He scooped her up and twirled her around. She shrieked in surprise and instinctively threw her arms around his neck as they spun in the living room until they dizzily swayed from side to side.

"Ahem." Her father Dr. Granger cleared his throat, feigning seriousness. The doctors Granger seemed to have silently Apparated into the living room, when really they had been watching their only child shriek happily when her "best mate" swung her around as though it was the most natural position to be in the entire time. Not at _all_ suggestive of anything but friendliness.

Ron set Hermione down carefully and gave the doctors Granger a sheepish wave, willing his face not to redden. "G'morning Dr. Granger." He held out his hand to her father Dr. Granger, who gripped it firmly. "And Dr. Granger." He shook her mother Dr. Granger's hand.

"Good morning, Ron." Her mother Dr. Granger raised a brown eyebrow, "So Hermione will be with you the rest of the summer, eh?" Her mother's hair was brown, extremely straight, and cut in a short wedge.

"Yes." Ron nodded, then added nervously, "Ma'am."

During this exchange, Hermione quickly fetched socks and her fading blue Converse All-Stars from the kitchen and put them on before reentering the living room.

"That's my only daughter you were twirling around a moment ago—" her father Dr. Granger began, keeping his pseudo-stern face. This face terrified Ron, though Dr. Granger was dwarfed by him since Dr. Granger was a half-foot shorter. Her father's hair was parted and gelled, but from the way random strands came loose in waves, one could tell where Hermione's ridiculously curly hair came from.

"Yes." Ron continued nodding, then added, "Sir." _Merlin, I had no idea that Hermione's dad was so protective…_

Her father Dr. Granger's mouth went from a firm line to a smirk, "—so she better have the best bloody summer of her life!" He chuckled.

Ron exhaled loudly, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. "Heh…heh!" Ron forced a laugh. "And she will, sir! Well, I hope she will…" __

Hermione snickered inwardly. _Dad really had Ron going for a minute… _Ron took her suitcase and trunk and put them into the fireplace. He took some Floo powder from his back pocket (where he also kept his wand) and threw the powder into the fireplace. Hermione kissed her parents goodbye.

"Don't do anything _I _would've done at your age!" her father Dr. Granger gave Ron a wink as Ron and Hermione squeezed into the fireplace. The two exchanged appalled looks.

"The Burrow!" The two sixteen-year-olds shouted clearly. They spun faster and faster and in the confusion, Hermione spun into Ron's chest.

"Sorry!" She shouted over the whirling soot around them.

Ron's arm unconsciously wound itself around her waist to keep her from bumping into the walls of the fireplaces they passed by. _This is nice…_ Hermione laid her head on his chest. They stopped spinning, much to both their dismay. Still in close proximity, the two jumped apart and out of the fireplace, suddenly very interested in dusting off their clothes.

"Well, here we are." Ron said awkwardly. _Oy! What were you _thinking_, you git! When a girl—er, your best mate who happens to _be _a girl—_accidentally_ spins into you during a ride through the Floo network, you shouldn't take _advantage _of the situation! Not that she moved away… This is _Hermione_, you're talking to yourself about! In your head, no less! Freak._

Hermione tried to grab for her suitcase and trunk, both of which Ron were holding, but he refused. "Ron, _honestly_, I can carry things for myself!" _But it's nice that you're carrying them…_

Ron shook his head, "Mum wouldn't have it. Weasley boys are supposed to be chivalrous and good hosts—"

Hermione snorted, "Yeah, the twins are prime examples of this…"

Ron ignored that comment, "—so I'll show you where you'll be staying." They climbed up the stairs to the floor with Ron and Ginny's rooms.

"Ron, I've been coming to your house for years now, I know where Ginny's room is…"

"Shh!" Ron held up a hand as they ascended the final flight of stairs and stood before Ginny's room. "You shan't belittle my host duties while you're here. Anyway, I figured it'd be the cleanest besides that wretched prat's—"

Hermione interrupted him before he launched into a Percy-bashing diatribe, which would only result in a sour mood. "Lovely! It's lovely, Ron." She paused and tiptoed to hastily kiss him on the cheek, "Thanks for inviting me! I'm going to take a shower, then…" Her voice trailed off as she slipped into Ginny's room and closed the door behind her.

Ron's hand flew up to his cheek, which had been seared by the slightest graze of her lips. "You're…welcome…" He croaked and leaned back against the closed door. "Blimey."

Hermione leaned back against the other side of the door and mentally berated herself. _What were you _thinking_?! Giving him a kiss—even if it was on the cheek—to shut him up. Brilliant, Hermione, just _brilliant. She kicked off her shoes and unpacked her books, setting them in piles on the floor. She enlarged her suitcase of clothes and took a clean shirt and pair of shorts out. Opening the door hesitantly, her eyes darted from one end of the hall to the other. No Ron in sight. Walking to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, she slipped in and locked the door behind her. She took a fluffy towel out of the linen closet above the toilet and hung it over the shower curtain rod.

Ron fetched clothes from his room, then went downstairs to shower in the twins' bathroom. He studied his face in the mirror. Hermione's faint pink lip-gloss print was on his cheek. He raised his hand to it but didn't touch it, lest he mess it up.

His reflection said, "Git. You'll have to wash it off, anyway."

"Shut up. Bloody inanimate object." Ron stuck his tongue out at his reflection.

"Touchy, aren't yeh, Casanova?" His reflection raised an eyebrow.

Ron threw his towel over the linen cabinet to block his reflection, then took a shower. He got out, magically dried his quasi-long hair and pulled on shorts and another shirt. Yet another Cannons shirt, which somehow had acquired a ridiculously large hole above his navel. "Dammit!" He pulled it off and ascended the stairs, shirt balled in his fist. __

After her shower, Hermione emerged from the bathroom, changed into clean clothes, wand sticking out of her back pocket. Her hair was magically dried into the crazy curls she usually sported. Ron ran up the stairs and ran into Hermione. Rather, she ran into his bare chest.

"Oof!" She looked up and gulped. "Er—sorry…" She couldn't keep from gawking at his broad chest and well-defined abdominal muscles. _Not to mention broad shoulders and big hands… Merlin, I'm a randy old bastard! Okay, different _non_-sexual thoughts… He's wearing the necklace I gave him for Christmas. Lovely. It rests right in the middle of his bare chest—the middle of his collarbone—bah! I give up. _

He laughed nervously in spite of himself, "Heh, my mistake." Seeing her so flustered was a rare sight, so he changed his tact and leered, "Like what you see, poppet?"

She scowled fiercely, "How much of that conversation did you _hear_?!"

He folded his arms across his chest with a triumphant look about him, "Oh, not much. Just the bit about how you didn't deny that I'm a handsome bloke."

Ordinarily, she would've been embarrassed or would've shot back with one of her fast barbs. Maybe it was her new shampoo. Maybe it was the fact that The Burrow was completely deserted. Or maybe it was the fact that her best mate who happened to be a handsome bloke was half-naked in front of her. Whatever it was, she had a burst of Gryffindor bravery. She stepped toward him, causing him to swallow uncomfortably since they were now centimeters apart. She trailed a finger from the nape of his neck forward, following the silver chain that held a silver charm, which settled in the middle of his collarbone.

She toyed with the charm, "Do you wear the necklace I gave you for Christmas everyday?"

A corner of his mouth twitched upwards, "Yeah." His big left hand found her small right one, "Do you wear the ring I gave you for sweet sixteen everyday?"

"Yeah." She dropped her hand from his necklace and watched as their hands interlaced naturally.

His thumb ran over the smooth silver ring on her middle finger. He wore one exactly like it on his right hand. They were silver friendship rings he'd found at a jewelry store in Diagon Alley, as recommended by Fred and George. Even if the idea was cheesy, she loved it all the same. She noticed he smelled clean and boyish—a mixture of soap and woodsy aftershave. His chin hovered just about her head and he inhaled the floral scent of her shampoo.

She made a noise, causing him to let go of her hand and back up. "Er, maybe you should go find a shirt." _Don't want him to think you're a slag or anything of the sort. Not that you'd even _think _of doing anything…slag-y…with him. Never! He's just…Ron. Yeah…_

"Right." Ron's head bobbed up and down slowly and he backed into his room, never turning around to stop looking at her. _Awkward much?!_ While rummaging through his bureau, he heard the floorboard creak. He whipped around to find Hermione leaning in the doorframe, head cocked to the side, arms folded across her chest. She'd been watching him. "Yes?"

"You should wear less orange." Hermione said matter-of-factly as he reached for _another _Cannons shirt. Another orange one that Harry bought him for his birthday, which matched the orange hat Harry had gotten him years ago.

"Why?! One of The Cannons' colors is orange! Orange isn't a bad color! I happen to own loads of Cannons merchandise that's—" Ron began ranting.

"Blue looks better on you. Bring out your eyes." She winced and internally slapped herself. "Er—that made me sound rather thick—"

"Oh." He replied, fished a blue button-up shirt from his bureau, and held it in front of his chest, "In _that _case, I'll go with this one. I bet it'll make me look handsome." He pulled it on, buttoned it up, and rolled up the sleeves to reveal his strong forearms.

Unconsciously, Hermione licked her lips and didn't refute his statement as she watched him. The gesture didn't go unseen by Ron, who felt the sudden need to busy himself with making his bed and stop staring at her mouth. _She probably forgot to put on that lip-gloss, so she was just moistening her lips. Mm-hm…_ She crossed the threshold into his room and helped tug the corners of the sheets and tuck them under the mattress.

"You mustn't be a very docile sleeper." She commented. The blankets were in a ball and his pillows were scattered across the room.

He shrugged, "Are _you _a docile sleeper?" He picked up a pillow from atop his bookshelf and put it over the sheets.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She smiled cheekily and grabbed a pillow from the corner on the floor.

Ron wiggled his eyebrows, "Maybe."

That comment elicited a slap on the arm from Hermione.

Two years or even a year ago, neither of the two would be _consciously_ flirtatious. At all! Or make slightly insinuative comments about each other's sleeping habits… The change was so gradual that hardly anyone noticed—people had been suspicious of the two since their first year. But to specifically pinpoint an occasion, one could put her money on April second of their sixth year. Only three months before.

On April first, Dumbledore declared that Hogwarts would have a Commencement Ball at the end of May to celebrate the seventh years' commencement…with the older half of the school present. Most of the students thought that their headmaster was getting their hopes up, only to make fools of them since the date suggested so. However, on April second, he declared again that there would be a Commencement Ball—he wanted the students to celebrate the end of the term on a high-note.

While Hermione had always been that clever, bossy, frizzy-haired Prefect who made the highest marks, boys had taken note that she was now an _attractive_ yet clever, bossy, and frizzy-haired Prefect who made the highest marks. It only took them two years to notice her teeth didn't bear semblance to those of a beaver and that she was rather pretty when she wasn't screaming at fellow students for rule breaking. Likewise, Ron had grown up and into his tall and gangly body, which had become less gangly and more muscular. No girl would care if he wore dress robes with severed hems so long as they could go to the ball with the fiery-haired (and tempered) Gryffindor Keeper. By then, he had gained wisdom as to how to treat a ball date.

Needless to say, the two awkward ducklings-turned-less awkward swans were sought after the moment Dumbledore confirmed that the ball wasn't a joke. Ron and Hermione had been chatting in the Great Hall after Dumbledore's confirmation when Ron saw a giggling pack of fourth years approaching at an alarmingly fast pace over Hermione's shoulder. He grabbed Hermione's hand and sprinted to the Prefects bathroom.

"Spearmint!" Ron half-yelled in a panicked manner, glancing over his shoulder to see the fourth years gaining on them. He thrust the door open, pulled Hermione in, and slammed the door behind them.

"Ron! What are we doing here?!" Hermione demanded. She was breathless from running and in the bathroom with Ron standing less than a foot away from him. Fortunately, no one else was in there.

Ron whipped out his wand and charmed the door to stay locked. Hermione's brown eyes widened; half-frightened, half-intrigued. "Ron—"

He pressed a finger to her lips, which instantly silenced her. "Hermione, will you go to the ball with me?"

She swatted his finger away, and replied, "Well…yes."

His face lit up, "Brilliant."

Presently, though, they moved shoulder to shoulder and tucked the corners of a blue blanket under Ron's mattress. __

Author's note: Okay, so that was kind of anti-climactic. But if these kids have been dancing around snogging each other senseless, you'd think that two months would be a nice span to spread out the development. Or not… But I wouldn't want it to be too abrupt. Reviews _really_ inspire me to write. And post. Hehehe. Thank you _so _much to all of you who reviewed! Do it again? :)


	3. Ch 3: The more you give

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: Thank you once again for the grand reviews! They make my day. In this chapter, I've clarified when a flashback occurs. There'll be more of them in this chapter. Please continue being wonderful and review!

Chapter Three: The more you give

The rest of the week, Ron and Hermione fell into a splendidly relaxed routine. Every morning, Ron would cook a large breakfast—the aroma of which woke Hermione from her deep, _docile _slumber. The rest of their mornings were spent playing endless games of chess, where glorious victories were Ron's until Hermione _attempted_ to assist him in preparing lunch. Their afternoons were a blur of picnics outside, de-gnoming the garden, taking naps on the squashy couches in the living room, reading, having tea around four, chatting about everything and nothing, having moonlit dinners at midnight, then collapsing from exhaustion in their respectable rooms.

The following Sunday (a week from Hermione's arrival at The Burrow), Ron had prepared breakfast as usual. He had finished scrambling the eggs, buttering the toast, and frying the bacon, and was scooping rations of each onto two plates. Typically, by this time, Hermione groggily stumbled down the flights of stairs and into the kitchen, greeting Ron with a sleepy grin. That morning, however, she did nothing of the sort.

Curious as to why, Ron stood at the foot of the stairs and yelled, "Oy! Hermione!"

No answer.

He climbed the first two flights of stairs and yelled a bit louder, "Hermione! It's breakfast time!"

Still no response.

Worried, Ron ran up the rest of the stairs and continued shouting her name, "Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"

He reached Ginny's room, which was functioning as Hermione's room for the summer, and banged on the door.

And yet, _still _no reply.

Swinging the door open, Ron found Hermione wrapped in four blankets, shivering furiously, and tossing and turning in her sleep on the twin bed. He rushed to kneel by her side and shook her gently. _Bloody hell!_

"Hermione, Hermione, wake up!"

Hermione stirred, then bolted upright. "Ron!" Her teeth were chattering and her voice was hoarse, "Ron—I'm-I'm freezing!" The sweat beads that glistened on her forehead and the fact that her face was very flushed contradicted the very statement.

Slightly panicked, he put the back of his hand on her forehead, "Merlin, poppet! You're burning up! You must have a fever…we'll fix this…" He climbed onto the bed behind her, rubbing her back. "Is your throat sore?"

Ignoring the fact that "poppet" would probably become his new nickname for her, she tried to swallow, but couldn't. She nodded and managed to croak, "Yeah." She turned and climbed onto his cross-legged lap, still wrapped in the excessive amount of blankets. _I could easily fall asleep in this position…_

Ron put his arms around her waist and rocked slowly, "D'ya think you can stomach some breakfast? Or d'ya want me to make you some soup?" _The girl is sick, twat! Thus, you _must_ ignore the fact that she smells like apples and she's too close… You nasty git! This is _Hermione_, your _best **mate**_! Not someone to _mate **with**_! _

Coughing to clear her aching throat but not succeeding, Hermione replied softly, "Chicken soup would be nice." Her face found the crook of his shoulder and rested there. _If I weren't so tired or feeling so horrid, I'd wonder what I'm doing…but I suppose, that's the beauty of feeling ill. You can always blame it on not having your wits about you… Heh heh. ___

He leaned his cheek onto her forehead and kissed her temple quickly, "Right. That's what Mum always makes when any of us are ill."

Silent for a few minutes, they stayed the way they were. Neither wanted to move because the position was so comfortable. Ron was the first to speak, "Would you rather eat now or go back to sleep?"

Hermione said nothing. She had already fallen asleep again. Not wanting to disturb her, he scooped her into his arms and slid out of the bed. He set her down again, careful not to wake her. He brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, then slipped out of the room. Quietly, he descended the stairs, sat in his chair at the kitchen table and ate breakfast.

_Flashback_

After the memorable day that Ron—as Harry put it—whisked Hermione away to the now-legendary romantic hotspot, the Prefects bathroom, threw caution to the wind, and proved that he had the emotional capacity that was _more _than teaspoon, Ron and Hermione got along brilliantly. Two years' of not dancing _around _the idea of going to a ball with each other rather than dancing _together_ at a ball—and the rows caused by doing such—were now a silly part of the past. Ron had gone to other balls with Lavender and Parvati, the girls who were the exact opposite of Hermione. They were the type of dates who expected the boy to pull out their chair, ask them to dance to every song, and giggle to fill any lapses in conversation, if there was any conversation to begin with.

Harry noticed the change in his two best friends' behavior and enjoyed making coy insinuations when both were present. A week after Ron's exposure as a boy with the emotional capacity of at leasta _serving_ spoon, the three were seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and eating breakfast. Ron and Hermione sat beside each other with Harry across from them. Ron and Hermione were reaching for the banana pudding at the same time. Their elbows bumped and both blushed.

Bemused, Harry raised a black eyebrow. "Is the pudding spoon heated?"

"What in the bloody—" Ron's red eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

"Don't curse, Ron." Hermione interrupted to reprimand him.

"Sorry, love." He turned and gave her an apologetic look.

Hermione's brown eyes grew wide, her mouth slightly agape. _He just called me love!_

Ron faced Harry to continue, "Harry, what in the _world_ are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing…aside from the fact both of your faces are rather flushed. I figured that the pudding spoon was hot, thus burning your faces _in addition_ to your hands." Harry snatched their hands. "Funny, though, your hands aren't burned…"

Ron rolled his blue eyes and regained possession of his hand.

Yanking her hand back, Hermione snapped with an embarrassed look, "I haven't the faintest idea of what you've been rambling about, Harry." She paused and turned to Ron, "Did you just call me _'love'_?" _It slipped! Something in his subconscious—no! He likes girls like—oh _why _does it matter, since he's _just_ your best mate. _

Ron shifted uncomfortably, much to Harry's amusement. "Er—yes? I—I didn't mean to—" _Bloody hell! Did I slip? Did I _mean _to call her _'love'_?! _Why _would I?! She's just…Hermione, not someone who I'd give a-a-a-_pet name _to! Merlin, Hermione with a pet name…ridiculous…_

She smirked. "It's…different, but not a _bad _different." Catching Harry wiggle his eyebrows, she continued defensively, "Not that you _have _to call me 'love'. In fact, you could still call me Hermione, but love _is _much shorter than _Hermione_…"

"That's true…" He stroked his stubbly chin. He was rather proud of himself for _finally _having _something _to shave other than peach fuzz.

"But _I _can't call you _'love'_, can I, Hermione?" Harry's green eyes twinkled mischievously.

Both of his best mates glared at him.

"_You _may call me 'love' if you so wish, Harry." Hermione rolled her brown eyes. _Not that it would have the same effect… Er, I mean…_

"But it wouldn't have the same effect, now would it, lo—"

SPLAT!

Two spoonfuls of banana pudding hit both lenses of Harry's black-framed glasses.

"Banana looks rather becoming on you, mate." Ron snickered as Harry took his glasses off and _Scourgify_-ed them.

"_Do _shut up, Harry." Hermione smiled angelically, "Then again, if you keep talking, I have some _hot eggs_—which came from a _hot spoon_—and would match the lap of your pants _perfectly_."

"That's _perfectly_ alright." Harry held up his hands in surrender, still smirking at his two best mates who were giggling and eating their banana pudding.

_End flashback_

After finishing breakfast, Ron tidied up the kitchen. _Poor Hermione. What can I do to cheer her up, once she wakes? _He began pacing between the stove and the kitchen table. _What would _I _want if _I _were bedridden and ill? _Stroking his newly shaved chin, he stopped pacing. _A good snog? NO! Snogging her would make _me _ill, too! Not that kissing Hermione's perfect mouth would make me ill—I could catch whatever illness she has—bloody hell! _He began chanting a mantra he'd adopted since her arrival._ She's my mate. My best mate. I am _not _attracted to her. I would _not _want to _snog_ her. I'm just a randy old bastard in close proximity with a pretty girl—who merely _happens _to be my best mate. Argh. I'm disgusting. _

"Maybe I should go for a stroll in the garden." Ron said aloud, then responded to assure himself, "Yes, yes, that's a good idea."

Grabbing a scrap of parchment and a quill, Ron began scribbling a note to Hermione. He tiptoed upstairs, left the note on the nightstand adjacent to the bed, tiptoed downstairs and went outside. Once in the garden, he looked around and found the watering can.

"Mum's flowers look a bit parched." He filled the watering can with water and tended to the flowers. He smiled as he looked at the white daisies he'd planted beside his sunflowers. His Mum also had rosebushes, lilies, orchids, and some random flowers in her garden. His daisies reminded him of a conversation he had with his poppet—_Not _my _poppet!_—er, Hermione about flowers.

_Flashback_

One evening, a week after the banana pudding incident and three before the ball, Ron and Hermione were walking toward Gryffindor Tower following a Prefects meeting.

"Are we going to coordinate for the ball?" Hermione asked. Her arms swung as she walked. Every now and then, her hand would brush Ron's and he would nudge her pinky with his, but both pretended not to notice.

"Er—dunno, d'ya reckon we should?" Ron would forever be confuddled by the female mind. This he was certain of. Coordinating colors? What did he care! He was going to the ball with the cleverest witch in their year who happened to be rather pretty and who was _also_ his best mate! Not that he noticed her in any other way but platonically…

"Well, which robes did _you _want to wear?" _Please don't let them be the maroon ones with severed hems…not that they looked _bad_, but Ron looks _so _handsome in the bright blue ones… _Not that she thought he was handsome, or anything.

Ron stopped walking and folded his arms across his chest, a stern look upon his face. "Hermione Granger." He pursed his lips, "Love, how could you _forget_?!"

"What-what did I forget?" _ME?! Forget something?! Ridiculous!_

"This ball is _Muggle _dress! We shan't be wearing robes!" He sighed and started to ascend the staircase to the Tower's entrance, "You're like one of those _aphrodisiacs_."

"I am _not _an _amnesiac_!" She scoffed indignantly while correcting him, disregarding his unintentional Freudian slip.

"I was planning on wearing blue." He replied. _I shan't tell her what the outfit looks like, since I want her to be surprised as to how dashing I'll look. Not that she _should _notice._

"By all means, don't give me _too _much information." She said drolly, then changed her tone, "_I _was planning on wearing pink. Light pink." _I shan't tell him what my dress looks like, since I want him to be surprised as to how becoming pink is on me. Not that he _would_ notice._

"You like white daisies, right?" He queried as they came to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Yeah. They're my favorite," She frowned slightly, "How'd you know that?"

"I'm all-knowing." He smirked and told the Fat Lady, "Mandrake."

With her brow furrowed, she followed him into the Common Room through the portrait hole. "So you're saying you're omnipotent now? Last time I checked, your name was Ron and not God."

Ron snorted as the two collapsed onto a couch in the Common Room. "I remembered last month when we were outside walking from the Quidditch pitch to the Tower after a match and I picked up two dandelions—one for me and one for you—to wish on. I told you that dandelions were my favorite non-flower and sunflowers were my favorite real flower. And you told me that white daisies were yours since they're the most cheerful flowers."

Hermione's eyes widened. Clearly, she was impressed. "Oh."

_End flashback_

Ron picked a dozen daisies from his section of the garden. His brothers teased him mercilessly for enjoying gardening. Evidently, they had never had a conversation with a girl about flowers and felt compelled to plant her favorite flower so as to have an endless supply at their disposal. Not that he _needed _an endless supply for any _particular _reason. Or person. White daisies were damn cheerful. That's right. Cheerful flowers. Ron needed _loads_ of cheerfulness during summer (like when Hermione—_and Harry!—_weren't visiting him), and his mum needed it during the year. Exactly.

Meanwhile, Hermione stirred in bed. She blinked rapidly so that she looked like she was fluttering her eyelashes, when really she was trying to blink the exhaustion away. In case Ron came up soon, she reached for her wand and quietly did an anti-morning breath spell. Looking beside her, she saw a scrap of parchment on the nightstand. Arranging her pillows behind her and leaning against them, she picked up the note and read:

_Morning (again), love, _

_I'm outside de-gnoming the garden. Don't be alarmed. Not that you'd have any reason to be alarmed about my absence. Not that I'm _absent _really, but…er…yeah. I'll be back soon to assume my role as your faithful servant. Not that I wasn't already. Heh heh. _

_Love,_

_Ron a.k.a. Well, I don't have nickname. That's the sad part about having a monosyllabic name. People don't feel the need to give you a nickname. Even if Ron is a nickname for Ronald, no one calls me Ronald except McGonagall and Luna. That's enough to depress someone about their _real _name. Not that Ron doesn't suffice as a name. And Weasel doesn't count as a nickname, since Malfoy is a prat. _

"Oh Ron." Hermione shook her head, laughing silently so as not to aggravate her throat, clutching the note.

"Yes?" Ron leaned against the doorframe with both arms behind his back. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt with the fuzzy ironed-on words "Kings don't let the quaffle in", which Hermione made him for his birthday last year. She made him two more t-shirts, since she knew he got enough knitted clothes from his mum for Christmas. The words were a bit faded and the t-shirt stretched across his build rather nicely. He wore jeans with a S.P.E.W. patch over a hole in the knee (another gift from Hermione) and his feet were bare.

"I just woke up and read your note…" Her scratchy voice trailed off. "What's behind your back?"

He crossed the threshold and presented the daisies he picked in a water-filled vase. "To cheer you up, love. Since they _are _cheerful flowers." He squeezed beside her on the bed.

She smiled, "So you _weren't _de-gnoming the garden."

"No, that's rather boring alone." _Good, she's smiling. _The bed was quite small, being twin-sized, so he decided to pull her into his lap again. That way, they'd both be more comfortable and not risk falling off the bed. Practicality had always been Ron's top priority. Never impulsiveness. Never… In his other hand was a small dish with a cold compress. He began patting her face with it.

"_And_, you remembered." She inhaled the daisies' scent and set the vase on the nightstand as he patted her face with the washcloth. She shifted so her head was in the crook of his shoulder. He had another daisy in his hand, which he promptly tucked behind her ear. "And you didn't call me poppet." _He called me love! Like he did at school! Merlin, Hermione, you're pathetic. Getting a thrill out of a joke between mates. And sitting in his lap, his arms around your waist, your arms resting on his—ack. I'm a twat. Babbling on and on about Ron as though he's the male lead in a romantic comedy film or novel. _

"Should I keep calling you poppet? I'm rather fond of both nicknames…" He paused to think it over, "Perhaps I could combine them into love-poppet."

She cringed. "Ew. That sounds dirty."

He nodded in agreement, "And wrong on _so_ many levels…" He tapped his head, "Or poppet-love!"

She scrunched her nose in disagreement, "That sounds odd." She opted for not talking too much, so as not to irritate her throat further.

"I agree, so if you don't mind, I shall alternate."

She rolled her brown eyes.

"I've been calling you poppet too much lately, though, and the novelty is wearing off. Love rolls off the tongue easier than poppet, as it does compared to Hermione."

She raised an eyebrow. __

"Not that Hermione isn't a lovely name. Heh heh, love, you have a lovely name. Okay, shutting my stupid mouth."

She giggled at his ramblings. "I've thought of a nickname for you."

"Really!" Ron attempted to hide his excitement, to no avail.

"Yes." Hermione batted her eyelashes innocently.

"Well, come out with it."

She paused, "I'd rather have chicken soup."

"Damn, love. You know exactly what would distract me." Ron toyed with

"You know me. _I'm _the all-knowing one."

After three days of Ron making vats of chicken soup for the bedridden Hermione and entertaining her by reading passages from the new edition of _Hogwarts: A History _to her, letting her beat him in chess, bringing her more and more daisies, and listening to those round CD things in her stereo, plus giving her Mrs. Weasley's special get-well-quickly potion, Hermione's health was restored. On Thursday morning, Hermione awoke to find the sunlight warming her face. She cleared her throat, to find it didn't ache.

Looking out the window, she saw the cerulean sky with random white cirrus clouds, a slight breeze kissing the treetops, and Ron watering his daisies in the garden below. "Such a beautiful day…" She paused and got up to turn on her stereo. She'd transfigured a piece of wood into a plug for the wall, which is how she and Ron had gotten to listen to her CD's. Putting in a mixed CD, she pressed play and jumped back onto the bed.

"It's a beautiful daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!" Her voice was still a bit scratchy, but her throat wasn't sore anymore and her fever was gone. How she adored U2.

Ron entered the house with a bunch of daisies and heard the stereo blasting U2. "Hermione must be well!" He jogged upstairs to find her dancing around the room, her back to him. He snickered quietly, not wanting to interrupt the show.

Hermione belted out the rest of the song. When it ended, she sat on the bed, her back still to Ron and contemplated the past four days. When she'd awoken, obviously ill, Ron made her feel like he could cure her in a day. Impossible, since _she_, the cleverest witch in their year, couldn't cure _herself _in a day. Why did she feel that, then? She glanced at the nightstand, which was completely covered in vases with daisies in them. His chessboard and its pieces were on the floor, as was the new edition of her favorite book. Her CD's were scattered everywhere.

The week and a half she'd spent at The Burrow thus far was one of the most fun parts of _any _summer she'd had. Granted, she'd been ill the half-week, but still. She couldn't believe he did all the things he had for her. Eating chicken soup with her so that she didn't feel like she was missing out on his _other _excellent dishes? Listening to _Barry White_ and learning the words to some of his songs? Letting her _beat him _in _chess_?! Reading aloud the new edition _Hogwarts: A History_?! She loved that he did those things solely to improve her mood. She loved that he started growing white daisies next to the sunflowers. She loved hearing his soothing voice lull her to sleep. She loved how he had no qualms about playing with her hair, rubbing her back, and giving her hugs. But was that just because she was ill?

If so, Hermione had the slightest wish to be ill more often.

Author's note: Well damn. That turned out to be a _lot_ longer than I thought it'd be. Liked it? Hated it? As you awesome people have been doing, review! Lovelovelove, Sam


	4. Ch 4: The more I want

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: It's been so long since I've written fic that I'd forgotten how much fun it is. _I _don't even know what's going to happen with everyone's favorite Weasley and bushy-haired counterpart. (Okay, maybe I have a slight idea.) Nevertheless, I love-love-love reviews! You readers are wonderful in that department—telling me what's good, what's not.

Chapter Four: The more I want

Ron watched Hermione look around the room as U2's "Beautiful Day" ended and one of her Elmo—no, that wasn't it… Nemo? No, that wasn't it either… He vaguely remembered her mentioning something about her six-year-old American cousin's favorite film with a Nemo character in it…some kind of aquatic animal…a fish, maybe? But back to the subject—what was that genre of music Hermione loved, anyway? Ron's brow furrowed in concentration. Emo! That's right. One of her emo bands played.

He cleared his throat. She jumped a little and turned around to face him, a slightly guilty look on her face. He hadn't the faintest idea why.

Her hands were on her hips. She assumed her bossy stance and shot him an indignant look, "How long have you been standing there _spying _on me?"

His lips twitched upwards, "Only long enough to catch you dancing on the bed like a girly teen film cliché."

"Oh good! No reason for you to mock me for the rest of our lives." Her scowl inverted into a smile, "I'm feeling _much_ better today."

"So I deduced from your dance sequence, followed by you sitting on the bed looking dazed." He paused, "Are you going to stay in your blue cupcake-patterned pajamas all day?"

She rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to untangle it. "I can't very well change clothes with _you _in here, Ron."

He shrugged and suppressed a smile that slowly crept across his lips, "I dunno. I wouldn't be offended."

"Pig." She shoved him out of the room, but _unconsciously _left the door ajar. Only an inch, mind you. But it was enough to tempt a sixteen-year-old heterosexual boy's eyes to wander…

Ron mentally berated himself. _Pervert. Don't _peek _at her! No matter how curious you are…er…not that I'm curious about what Hermione looks like. Y'know. **Naked**. _The thought caused discomfort in the downstairs department. No, not The Burrow's kitchen…_Ron's _downstairs department.

To take his mind off of the very thought, he turned around and began whistling softly. Unfortunately, the only tune that came to mind was "Qualified To Satisfy You" by Barry White. No Barry White songs could remedy his current _condition_, since the recurring theme in the songs tended to be about lovin' an insatiable woman, makin' love to an insatiable woman, and missin' love from an insatiable woman.

Turning to go to his room next door and wait until Hermione finished getting dressed, his eyes flickered to the slightly open door. Through the inch-wide space between the door and its threshold, he caught a glimpse of Hermione's topless back, her mass of brown curls tossed forward so her shoulder blades were bare. He noticed she had a lone freckle in a random spot near her side. Her pajama pants rested low on her hips. Her head was cocked to the side as she surveyed an array of shirts to choose from.

Ron's blue eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. _Breathe. And run! But quietly, so Hermione won't know you were _really _spying on _her_, your damn best mate!_ He ran into his room, ignoring the fact that his jeans seemed to have shrunken in the span of two minutes. He sat on his bed (a pillow in his lap in case she came in anytime soon), trying to think of anything but what he just saw. _Okay…let's see…_ He glanced around the room, then looked down at his hands. _I have freckles on my hands. Hermione has a lone freckle below her right shoulder blade—no! Okay, okay. Let's try again. _

He heard the door creak open and Hermione slip out of the room clad in a towel and carrying some clothes for after her shower. _Hermione is completely starkers under that towel! Disgusting pig…she's just your best…she's just your…_ More urgently, Ron scanned the room again to take his mind off of any dirty thoughts about Hermione. He picked up the picture frame of Harry, Hermione, and him on their last day of sixth year. He sighed almost inaudibly as he watched the pictures move. Picture-Ron stood behind Picture-Hermione and put his arms around her waist. Picture-Hermione laughed, squeezing Picture-Ron's arms more tightly around hers before he carried her off the ground in a spinning hug. Picture-Harry rolled his eyes, slightly amused by his best mates' antics.

_What would I do without her?_ Ron sighed again, but caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he had a wistful expression on his face. The wistful expression quickly turned into a rather horrified one. _Did I just _think _that?! I'm such a bloody git. I don't think to myself, "What would I do without Harry?" Though I wonder what it'd be like without having him as my male best mate, his bare back just doesn't appeal to me as much as Hermione's—ack! _He shook his head vehemently, "Argh! _Why _must I—"

"Why must you what?" Hermione appeared at the door, fully clothed, much to Ron's disappointment. She wore a blue spaghetti strap top with a sunflower in the center and khaki pants. Since her tank top was rather form fitting and her khakis rested low on her hips, an inch's worth of skin showed. Her hair was up in its usual messy bun, a few loose curls framing her face.

He gaped at her. _An inch is a lot these days…_ After seeing her in long-sleeved pajamas for four days, he'd almost forgotten how she looked in Muggle clothes. Which was to say, quite lovely.

She blinked at him. "What're you staring at, Ron?" She raised an eyebrow and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, "Is there something on my face?"

"N-no." He shook his head, swallowing uncomfortably. "You-you just look very…lovely today."

"Considering I've been half-comatose in bed for the past four days, I'd reckon this was an improvement." She laughed that infectious laugh of hers and sat beside him on his bed.

"Seriously, love. Not to say you aren't stunning in those cupcake pajamas—" He chucked her chin lightly.

"Oh, shut it, darling." As soon as she said it, her hand flew to her mouth. _Darling?! Did I just call Ron darling?! I _never _call _anyone _darling!_

Shocked, Ron raised his eyebrows. "Is _that _my new name? _Darling?_" _Except since we're British, it's like saying _dahling_. Poppet's not the type to just call _everyone _dahling. And since I'm a bloke…and she only calls _me_ dahling…no, no, no! Stupid. Stupid Ron. You don't _care _that she's thought up a pet name—er, nickname for you, since you have for her. Two, actually…and _that _doesn't mean a thing! Nope. Never…_

"Do you like it? Or would you rather put this beneath 'Hermione dancing on the bed whilst singing U2 at the top of her lungs' on the list of things to torment me about?" She looked kind of nervous. _What do I care? He calls me _poppet_ for Merlin's sake! It's a _joke_, not a _pet name_! _

He stroked his stubbly chin pensively for a moment. "I like it, love." He tucked the errant curls behind her ears.

She studied his face intently, then cupped his cheek with her hand and leaned forward. He swallowed audibly. _She's bloody close enough to—to…_ Much to his disappointment, she ran her thumb across his chin and snickered. "I knew it! You've been shaving." _And I'm close enough to…no, not thinking about _that_. Snogging Ron. Honestly! That's a…bad…thought…_

Ron scoffed, offended, "I've _been_ shaving!" Eager to change the subject, he glanced at an actual clock on his wall. "It's almost noon, love. After I make brunch, what're you up for doing?"

"Snogging you senseless." Hermione replied immediately without flinching.

"WHAT?!" Ron's jaw dropped.

She snickered, "I was kidding, darling."

He forced a laugh. "I knew that…"

After thinking a moment, Hermione's brown eyes sparkled mischievously. "Fancy a swim?"

Ron grinned, "Brilliant."

Ron put together a feast of Hermione's favorite foods: roasted chicken, Shepherd's pie, string beans, potatoes, strawberries, banana pudding, ice cream sundaes topped with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor beans, pumpkin pasties, and pumpkin juice. Once they were completely sated with food and almost positive they couldn't move, the two slowly ascended the stairs to their respective rooms. They changed into their swimsuits, grabbed towels, and met each other at the foot of the stairs.

Hermione's lips parted and formed a small O. Even if she'd seen the sight quite a few times, the boy was shirtless and wearing his swimming trunks! Playing so much Quidditch outside the past year had given him a bit of a tan. Occasionally, she'd watched the team practice when the weather was good and the boys played shirtless because it was too hot. Not that they were aware of her reason for taking a sudden interest in Quidditch. Heh, heh. She may've been a studious girl, but she was only human. Her eyes flicked down his half-naked form—his biceps bulged slightly as he folded his arms across his chest, towel tossed over his shoulder, his abdominal muscles were well defined and he had a nice little trail of hair from his navel down…

"Are you through, Miss Granger?" Ron smirked. He enjoyed making her squirm. It wasn't as though seeing _her _in a bathing suit wasn't a new concept, either. At least girls didn't have the _obvious _physical evidence that they liked what they saw. How embarrassing.

She smiled cheekily, "Patience, Mr. Weasley. Turn around, will you?" He did a 180, giving her a nice view of his broad shoulders and arse. "Okay. Now I'm done."

She linked her arm through his and they headed outside to the lake behind The Burrow. Both were barefoot, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces and the breeze making the grass swish by their ankles. Once beside the lake, Hermione spread her towel out and lay on her back on top of it, closing her eyes.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "I thought we were going swimming, love."

Hermione replied without opening her eyes, "Ah yes, but it's rather relaxing to just be _outside_, rather than quarantined in Ginny's room. And there's that rule about not swimming after you've eaten for at least a half-hour."

He shrugged, then laid his towel next to hers and assumed the same recumbent position, closing his eyes. "Mm…you're right. This _is _quite relaxing…" His hand brushed hers as he shifted on his towel.

Instinctively, she rolled slightly towards him. His finger poked her side, causing her to fidget.

"I almost forgot you were a ticklish one…" He opened his eyes and grinned wickedly. He knelt beside her.

"Ron…" Her voice had that warning tone, "Don't you even—AHHH!"

His hands prodded her sides, causing her to writhe in agony whilst squealing. She kicked and attempted to swat at him, to no avail. Suddenly, she had an epiphany. She sat up, pinched his side and wriggled her fingers in the crook of his neck.

"Not fair!" He cried, laughing as they tickle-attacked each other, sinking back down onto the towel.

"You started it!" She smacked him on the chest playfully.

The two simultaneously held up their hands in surrender, their tickle-induced laughter subsiding. They lay next to each other, faces millimeters apart, their expressions growing serious. A fleeting smile graced Ron's lips as he squeezed Hermione's side, causing her to roll into him, her back to his front. Her head now was tucked under his chin and he took the rubber band out of her hair, letting it flow in all its wild glory. His hand, which still on her side, balled into a fist, flattened. His arm coiled around her waist and pulled her even closer to him, his hand resting on her stomach.

Hermione swallowed audibly. The back of her head was level with Ron's chest, so she felt his heartbeat quicken with hers. Her half-bare back (she _was _wearing a swimsuit, after all) clung to his bare chest. _Breathe! _She willed her breathing to be slow and deep. Her feet curled around his calves. Within minutes, both sixteen-year-olds' chests rose up and down rhythmically, their breathing perfectly synchronized. In the back of their minds, annoying voices were screaming that the position was wrong. Spooning with your best mate was _completely _wrong! However, neither let on that they were moving any time soon.

In silence, they stayed the way they were until the sun began to dip low in the pink-orange-golden sky. Ron had started dozing off when Hermione slowly turned to face him and nudge him awake. He smiled sleepily, tightening his grip on her waist, tracing circles on her stomach.

"Darling, let's go inside." She brought a hand to forehead and brushed his bangs away from his eyes.

"Mm…can't we stay out here forever?" He blinked groggily and buried his face in her hair.

"If we want to freeze." She frowned, shivering a little as the warm breeze wafted slightly cooler.

"Oh, live a little, love. It's summer! We could very well sleep outside in swimsuits and not freeze!" He argued, closing his eyes again.

"No, we can't…" Hermione shook her head, her hair tickling Ron's face. She paused, "You notice, we haven't swam yet? Perhaps tomorrow afternoon…"

Ron sighed, "Yeah…" His eyes snapped open and his lips twitched into an impish grin, "But then again, there's no better time than the present!"

Before the complete significance of Ron's words registered in Hermione's mind, she found herself being scooped into his arms and thrown into the lake.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She screeched. Her arms flailed as she cannonballed into the tepid water.

He dove in after her and watched as he came up, sputtering, "Ronald Weasley! You-you-you—"

His lips were pressed into a straight line, feigning seriousness. "Me? Me?"

"You bloody prat!" She launched herself onto his back and wrestled him into the water. She half-succeeded, dunking him for short periods of time before he buoyed up again.

"Hermione!" He was plunged underwater. He came up again, "Granger!" Under again. Then up again, "You!" The last time he went down and up, he finished his sentence, "Cursed!"

"You're bloody right I cursed! Arsehole." She folded her arms indignantly, blowing a coil of hair from her face.

"_You're _the one who fancied a swim. So I gave you a swim." He gave her a lopsided smile and tucked the pesky coil behind her ear. "Hungry?"

"Starved. I have a larger appetite when stupid boys vex me." She shot him a glare and climbed out of the lake, grabbing her towel and drying off.

"For a second, I heard you wrong. Thought you said 'when stupid boys _sex _me'—" Ron snickered and followed her back to The Burrow, hair still dripping. He enjoyed walking behind her, for some reason unbeknownst to him. _Heh, heh…_

Hermione snorted, "Immature git. Like _that's _ever going to happen."

"One could only hope…" He elbowed her side.

She stopped walking and faced him, "Darling, you're incorrigible. You know that?"

He tweaked her nose, "Just around you."

She smiled slightly, shook her head, wrapped her towel around her waist and headed inside.

Ron followed her upstairs and went to his room, leaving his door open. He watched her disappear into Ginny's room to fetch clothes, then to the bathroom. To no one, he said, "I'm only incorrigible around you. Why is that?"

Stating that Ron was an oblivious boy was like stating that Donald Trump had the most "creatively styled" comb-over of the century. It was an obvious fact. So it came as no surprise that Ron didn't notice an Extendable Ear lying on the floor by his foot with its extension leading to the bathroom.

Author's note: School starts tomorrow. Horrible, horrible, horrible! I won't have as much time to devote to writing. But y'know what would make it less horrible? 50 reviews from all of you! Reviews motivate me to update…hehe. How'd you like it? Good? Bad? Too fluffy? Not enough fluff? Review and tell me! Lovelovelove, Sam


	5. Ch 5: Baby, that's no lie

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: Two and a half weeks of school have gone by, so I figured it was about damn time I updated this fic. Thank you to every single one of you who reviewed! You're wonderful. In spite of the fact that Honors Precal stole my soul from the moment I entered the class, then digested it after our first test, your reviews have brightened my day. Seriously. This chapter turned out to be longer than I expected. Lots o' fluff. As always. Enjoy!

Chapter Five: Baby, that's no lie

_Prior to the impromptu "swim"…_

Fred, George, and Ginny stopped by The Burrow to pick up a few things. Namely, clean clothes for Ginny so she wouldn't have to do laundry. They may've been two wizards and a witch, but even in the magic world, laundry was done the old-fashioned way. Actually, laundry done the wizard way was even more old-fashioned than the Muggles, since wizards still used clotheslines. When they entered the house, they noticed that Ron and Hermione were missing.

"Bet those two couldn't take the sexual tension anymore." Fred rolled his eyes and gestured to clothes strewn over the floors in the pair's respectable rooms.

"Fancied a shag, did they?" George snickered, "Ickle Ronniekins is finally going to become a man—"

Ginny rolled her eyes and smacked the twins' heads. They frowned at her, rubbing their mop-heads. "Honestly! Talking about Hermione like she's a scarlet woman. So what if she and Ron fancy each other?! They don't fancy each other enough to—to—" Her voice dropped to a murmur, "—shag."

The twins gave her a skeptical look.

"Right now, at least." Ginny added with a smirk.

"You never know. They always say to watch out for the shy, bookish ones…" Fred wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Hermione may be bookish, but _when _has she ever been shy? This isn't a teen film, Fred. She hasn't undergone a dramatic makeover and become the fantastic girl she never was. She's _always_ been grand." Ginny's eyes grew wide as she looked out her bedroom window. She squealed and gestured for her brothers to see.

Ron and Hermione were lying in the grass on a towel next to the bank of the lake. In rather close proximity, at that. Ron appeared to be dozing off.

"Well, well, well…" George stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Looks like they've been laying there awhile." He coughed, "Spooning."

"Ew." Ginny wrinkled her nose, "It sounds so…crude."

Fred patted his only sister's head patronizingly, "That's 'cause it is." He exchanged glances with George, "You'd think that after _six _bloody _years_, those kids would be less…" He waved a hand in the air as though to catch a word that'd escaped him.

"Chaste?" George suggested.

"Yeah. Damn Ron's shyness! Forget the cute stuff—they need some action!" Fred snickered with George, which made Ginny shove both of them with a rather disgusted look on her face.

The three sneaked down to the living room and Floo-ed back to Diagon Alley without noticing someone else enter The Burrow.

_As soon as the twins and Ginny left…_

"Mister—" Harry began to ask.

"Potter, how many times do I have to tell ya?! It's either Alastor or Moody. None of this '_Mister_' business." Moody corrected him as they showed up on The Burrow's front porch.

"Right." Harry nodded, flattening his cowlick-ridden black hair and pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. His green eyes darted around suspiciously. It was quite unsettling to be standing on his best male mate's porch without the intent of visiting.

"That's the way, Potter. Your eyes are always moving—a sign of a good future Auror. Constant vigilance!" Moody barked, smacking his cane on the ground for emphasis. He lowered his gruff voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Because Arthur and Molly have left for the Pajamas—"

Harry stifled a laugh, "It's the Bahamas, Moody." He paused, "But what're we _doing _here?!"

Moody waved his cane to dismiss the correction and question, continuing, "—and the rest of the family is elsewhere, Ron is all alone to hold down the fort. I suggest we put some surveillance—"

Harry's eyes widened and mouth dropped in horrification. "You want to spy on Ron?!"

Moody ignored him. He shook his head as he opened the front door, muttering, "The boy's not the cleverest boy is he? Not locking the doors so as to make the surrogate Minister of Magic's home accessible to trespassers—"

"Like ourselves?" Harry whispered back.

Moody nodded as he began charming the various open corridors where shifty characters would be seen skulking so that miniscule bubbles hid in the ceiling's corners. The bubbles had corresponding larger ones at Auror headquarters, which meant that all of The Burrow's inhabitants' (or the only one, as far as they knew) activities that took place in the main parts of the house would be watched. Harry observed and assisted Moody, feeling even weirder than when they began.

Laughter came from downstairs. The front door had swung open and Ron and Hermione pushed each other across the threshold.

"Shite!" Harry half-yelled as he and Moody ran to the nearest bathroom. Rather than hearing only Ron's voice, Harry heard _two _voices. One was a distinctly…_female_…voice, at that. He knew that voice! His ears perked up with curiosity, "Is that Hermione?" _Interesting…_

Moody swiftly laid Enhanced Hearing Extendable Ears on the floorboards of every room on the floor they were on. "Almost done, Potter."

Ron and Hermione made their way up the stairs. Harry's eyebrows rose so high that they threatened to disappear under his untidy black hair. He grabbed his Invisibility Cloak from his messenger bag, which was slung over his shoulder, and threw it over Moody and himself.

From one of the Enhanced Hearing Extendable Ears, he heard Ron wonder aloud, "I'm only incorrigible around you. Why is that?"

Following Ron's wonderings, Harry and Moody silently Apparated to The Ministry. Silently Apparating was a technique that Moody and the other Aurors were trained to do.

Simultaneously, Hermione entered the bathroom in time to hear Ron's question, too, aided by the Extendable Ears, which she didn't even see lying on the floor. Her brow furrowed in confusion. _Why is he _wondering_ about being incorrigible? He was only _kidding_ when we were walking from the lake. Right? He wouldn't actually think he… Because he doesn't… And I don't either… Right?!_

To say the next few days passed awkwardly between the two sixteen-year-old best mates would be the understatement of the year.

As always, Ron would make the meals and he and Hermione would eat together. But for some reason unbeknownst to Ron, their easy conversation was replaced with awkward small talk. Their hands would brush while reaching for the bowl of Yorkshire pudding and they would retract their hands, stutter, not meet each other's eyes or speak another word for the remainder of the meal. They busied themselves with silent games of chess and de-gnoming the garden as well as doing other chores, all without the playful banter and affection that had been present just a few days before.

What made the change occur?

Hermione spent more time in Ginny's room than usual, mostly scribbling away in a journal. Her hands were ink-stained from leaky quills, and she always appeared to be contemplating something. Her brow was constantly furrowed, which gave her a slight brooding look. When Ron asked her what was wrong, she brushed him off and muttered, "It's a girl thing."

Quite frankly, Ron was confused. Was it something he did? Was it that time of the month? He knew that whenever it was _that time of the month _for Ginny, she acted strange. _I sure as hell can't ask poppet _thatOr did she regret…er…_spooning_ with him? They were best mates! Best mates were supposed to be able to talk about anything, even if it would be ridiculously uncomfortable to do so. They had until this point. The last time Hermione had been blatantly ignoring him, it had turned out for the better.

_Flashback_

A week before the Commencement Ball, Hermione was extremely busy. Or so she claimed. Ron knew that Hermione had loads of responsibility as a Prefect, but so did he! Yet he still made time to chat and spend time with friends. By nature, Ron was the _slightly _jealous type. Not the _frighteningly_ jealous _maniac _type, but jealous in that generic boy-ish way. If another boy tried a pick-up line on Hermione, Ron always interrupted before the aforementioned boy could even follow through with a second or third line. It wasn't as though Hermione actually _fell _for the lines! She merely enjoyed keeping a running tally of the worst ones and trading pick-up line horror stories with Ginny.

Because it had been ages since Ron and Harry had flown for fun, they decided to take a late-Friday night fly at the Quidditch pitch. They wore Muggle clothes to stay comfortable in the balmy weather. Ron wore a bright blue shirt Hermione made him that said Hands Down, which was an allusion to one of those American bands she listened to (he needed to remind her to let him listen to the song it came from), jeans, and his dilapidated black All-Stars. Harry wore a gray shirt, jeans, and random off-brand sneakers.

Upon returning to Gryffindor Tower from the pitch, Ron and Harry spotted Hermione walking with another familiar Seeker towards Dumbledore's office. The one who was usually outfitted in green and silver robes. Instead, both Hermione and Draco were outfitted in Muggle clothes as well. Hermione wore a snug red t-shirt, jeans, and red ballet flats, and Draco wore a fitted green short-sleeved button-up, khakis, and sandals.

Ron's face contorted into a _very_ unattractive expression.

Harry cleared his throat, "You alright there, Ron? Choking on something? Your face is rather purple…"

He shook his head furiously and managed to sputter and point, "Her-Her-Hermione."

The boys ascended the staircase to the Tower and Harry told the Fat Lady, "Bubotuber pus." They crawled into the portrait hole and found themselves in the Common Room.

Harry had grown accustomed to Ron's minor outbursts and shrugged, "What about Hermione?"

"She was walking with—with—" He shuddered with disgust.

"The infamous Draco Malfoy. Yes, Ron. I _saw_." Harry rolled his eyes and clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder. "It'll be okay, mate. She doesn't _fancy _him…"

"Wh-wh-why would I care if she fancied him?!" Ron immediately asked, looking around suspiciously. "Besides, they've been walking together _all week_. Patrols, in the corridors whispering in hushed tones—"

"People tend to speak in hushed tones when they whisper…" Harry rolled his eyes again.

"—and he makes her laugh! I'll be they have private jokes…" Ron looked positively distraught.

"Relax, Ron. You're about to have a stroke." Harry shook his head, "Let's have a seat, shall we?" He gestured to the squashy chairs in the Common Room. It was almost midnight, since their impromptu flying expedition lasted longer than they'd planned.

Ron and Harry took seats across from each other. Ron settled in his seat with a worried look on his face.

"Ron. Do you _honestly _expect me to believe that you've never even _thought _of the possibility that you fancy Hermione?" Harry gave him a Look over the rims of his glasses.

"Er—yes!" Ron replied enthusiastically, then began babbling really quickly, "I've only thought of Hermione as a friend ever since that day on the train when she was a snotty little girl and then she became our friend after the troll incident and any _other_ kinds of thoughts have never crossed my mind because she's one of my best mates and that'd be quite awkward to like one of your best mates—"

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"—not that I'd ever like you, Harry—"

"Good to know." Harry interjected.

"—since you're not a girl and you don't have a brilliant smile or—er, breasts—"

Harry laughed loudly, causing Ron to blush even redder than his hair.

"—not to say that you're an _ugly _bloke 'cause you're a handsome bloke—"

"Why thank you, Ron. I'm flattered that you think so." Harry continued laughing.

"—but Hermione's just that girl who's always been there and I doubt she'd ever see me as anyone but that bloke who's always been there and—"

Harry held up a hand. "Okay, okay, mate. I believe you." He raised his eyebrows dubiously. "But I still think you're frightened by the idea of being rejected—"

Suddenly, someone clambered from the portrait hole and into the Common Room.

"Hello you two." Hermione gave her best mates a small wave and a smile. She turned to Ron, "Who are you afraid of being rejected by?"

"Hello stranger." Ron replied with an icier tone than intended. Hermione's smile inverted into a frown.

"Er, hello Hermione. I'm—" Harry ran his hand through his hair distractedly and strode towards the boys' staircase. Halfway up the staircase, he said, "—off to do some homework! Yes, that's right."

"Harry, it's Friday. You _never _do homework during the first _night_ of the weekend. You _always _do it on Sunday! Besides, we haven't had homework in ages!" Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's retreating form and flung herself onto the couch adjacent to the armchair Ron sat in. She studied his stoic expression and sighed, "What's wrong, Ron?"

"Nothing, nothing." He replied coolly, folding his arms across his chest.

She intentionally bought the shirts a size smaller than he usually wore. _He should accentuate his muscles more. Not that he _knows _I've even _noticed _his muscles! Er. He'll never know. Hopefully._ A hint of a smile flickered across her face.

"You find this amusing?" Ron asked her, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do." Hermione suppressed a giggle.

"And _what _about this do you find amusing?! You've been running around like a headless chicken for the past week!"

Giggle.

He ignored the giggle and went on, "—you've been volunteering for patrols _after _you've finished your required patrols with _Malfoy_—"

Giggle-giggle.

"—working yourself to _death _on schoolwork that's practically nonexistent, scurrying about to do favors for teachers with _Malfoy_—"

Giggle-giggle-giggle.

"—then _tonight_, you scurried about with _Malfoy_!" Ron's face contorted in disgust.

Hermione completely lost it. Her giggles were uncontrollable.

"What! I'm being _serious_, love!" He stood up, his arms flopping to his sides. His voice hit a whiny pitch.

She clutched her sides, tears running down her cheeks, "What's—so—funny…" She paused to inhale deeply, "You're—you're—_jealous_—of…AHHHH!" She rolled off the couch and onto the floor, laughing even harder at her clumsiness. She landed facedown on the carpet.

"Jealous of _whom_?!" He knelt beside her and demanded indignantly. _Who would I be jealous of?!_

She rolled onto her back to see his serious face. "MALFOY! AHHH!" _This is too ridiculous! Ron! Jealous of…MALFOY! _

He stuttered, "I—I beg your pardon!"

She stopped laughing and sat up. He sat beside her. "You _would _beg my pardon, wouldn't you, Ron?"

"Er. I just…did…?" His brow knitted in confusion and averted his gaze. _Hm, that table is ten centimeters from where it was yesterday… Hermione smells really good…er, yeah. How about that table… _

She swatted his bangs away from his eyes and forced his chin towards her to make eye contact with her. "Admit it. You, _Ron Weasley_, have been _completely _jealous of _Draco Malfoy_ this entire week."

"I—I have not!" He scoffed. She gave him a pointed look, to which he reluctantly muttered, "A little."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you…" She grinned and cupped a hand around her ear. _Ron was jealous! Of Malfoy! Wait, why am I _happy _about this?! Not to say I was happy about this, but…er… Glad I got blue shirts for him. Maroon and orange are horrid on him. Not that I _look _at him all the time to _notice_! Yeah…_

"Yes, _Hermione Granger_." He looked at her ashamedly. "I was a _bit _jealous. But it's only because I haven't spoken but twenty words to you this entire week. I was getting Hermione withdrawal—"

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she took a rubber band from her wrist and held it between her teeth as she gathered her hair to tie into a ponytail. Ron watched the rubber band with fascination; it was trapped between her teeth. Her magically perfect, straight teeth.

"You get Hermione withdrawal?" The corners of her lips tugged into the beginning of a smirk.

"Well," He paused, then confidently went on, "Yes! Absolutely!"

"Okay, now you're just being sarcastic." She rolled her brown eyes at him and shook her head. "You _constantly _do this, you _constantly_—"

"I _wasn't _being sarcastic, love." _Somehow_, his hand found hers and he started toying with the friendship ring he gave her. "You're my best mate."

"So is Harry. I'm sure you get _Harry _withdrawal, as well…" _Would he _stop _tracing circles on my palm while fiddling with the ring?! It's distracting! Mm…Ron smells good. Doesn't seem like he got sweaty while flying. If he did, he'd be shirtless… Maybe sweatiness wouldn't be so bad—AHH! Stop! Randy bastard. _

"No, because unlike you and me, Harry and I aren't exactly the most emotionally perceptive pair. I know for a fact that right now—" He looked at her biting her lower lip. "—you're biting your lip because you think I'm about to tell you a load of dragon shite."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, "_How _many times have I _asked _you—"

"To stop cursing? Oh, about a million and five. Pardon me, I mean, dragon _dung_. About your facial expressions, though—"

Her eyes searched his for the direction this conversation was going to take.

"—your eyes are doing the subtle darting thing. You're really tired, but are intrigued by where I'm going with this."

Her mouth opened into a small O.

"Yeah, _so what_ if you and Harry are _both _my best mates. You're my best mate that I can tell anything to. You know how Harry gets—"

"Too distant and closed-off, sometimes, because of everything he's gone through."

"Exactly. But with you, you're _constantly _there to talk to about everything and nothing at all. You wouldn't mock me if I said something particularly sentimental. But we still tease each other." His head dipped low next to her ear; his lips brushed her earlobe slightly. His voice lowered, "And let's face it, it's more fun to tease _you _than _Harry_."

A squeak escaped from her. _His breathing's tickling my ear. Not to mention his lips… I'm naughty! Bad. Horrible. But, it's not, actually. Heh. Heh. _Still in close proximity, she turned to face him, their faces millimeters apart."That whole _speech _was rather sentimental, Ron. But it was punctuated with an insinuation to balance it out. Nevertheless, it was quite nice."

Ron's eyes grew wide. _My nose is touching Hermione's nose! Bloody HELL!_ He gulped, "I try."

"And you _weren't _kidding?"

He gave her a dubious look. "Would I be _that _daft to _ever _lie to you?!"

"Excellent point."

_End flashback _

Around midnight, Ron was sitting alone in the living room with an acoustic guitar that Mr. Weasley confiscated a couple of years ago because it was charmed to pop its strings on anyone who tried to play a G chord. After Mr. Weasley remedied the problem, Ron had been teaching himself to play. He was rather skilled at playing by ear.

Hermione watched him from the doorway. He was playing and singing "As Lovers Go" by Dashboard Confessional. _I _knew _he secretly liked Dashboard! Aha! "Sappy lyrics"…please… _She didn't know _why _she'd been isolating herself from him lately. Actually, she had a faint idea. The fact that he wondered why he was incorrigible merely triggered her to examine the same questions that had been going through her mind moments after their…er…_spooning_ incident. At first, she'd thought it was just a random act of…what was it of, anyway? Affection? Fondness? _Heh, heh. That word sounds like fondle—ew! I'm disgusting. _Or did _the act _possibly signify…_intimacy_? _Not _every _kind of intimacy has to do with _sexual _things, Hermione! Pervert. _

It wasn't like she spooned with _every _boy. In fact, he was the first boy she'd ever spooned with. She'd never even been kissed. Except in primary school, when a boy named Billy, who was more bookish than she'd _ever _be, _attempted _to kiss her. He got a corner of her lip. She nose-blocked him and gave him a swift kick in the shins. If Ron ever attempted to kiss her, would she nose-block him? Granted, this was ten years _after _the Billy attack, but still. _Good question… No! I shouldn't even _question _it; he's my best mate. Period. Nothing more, thus there'd be nothing to wonder about since he'd never try. But do I want him to? NO! Argh, this is stupid. _Upon reflection and following countless journal entries, Hermione admitted it to herself. She was scared of getting _too _close to Ron. It equally a feeble excuse as it was true. They already could share everything with each other. But…romance behind the sharing? _That_ was a whole other concept…

Ron looked up with a perplexed look on his face. "Hello." He said softly and set the guitar on the table. "Care to join me?"

"Yeah, actually." Hermione took a seat beside him on the small loveseat. His elbow kept digging into her side, so she moved his arm to go around her waist. Convenient, eh? She looked up, "I'm sorry for acting so peculiar lately…"

"It's alright, I don't really mind…" He replied quickly, then started rambling, "Well, actually, I _did _kind of mind because I was getting Hermione withdrawal again and I _knew _not to disturb you whilst you were in your don't-bother-me-I'm-going-to-hole-myself-up-in-Ginny's-room-and-write-all-day thing, but I really wanted to because I was worried that you were angry with me or thought I was a randy old bastard and were thoroughly disgusted with my behavior, which if you are, I completely apologize—"

"Quit being the girl in this situation, Ron! Stop overanalyzing and apologizing! We're fine. Really." She nodded and settled her head onto his collarbone.

Rather than being affronted by her calling him a girl, Ron nuzzled her neck and pulled her closer to him. Her legs were draped over his lap, and his arms wound around her waist. Her arms snaked around his neck. Leaning sideways, the two fell into a deep, docile slumber.

Author's note: What'd you think? Like it? Hate it? Too much fluff? Too clichéd? Review and tell me, always! Lovelovelove, me.


	6. Ch 6: Tell me

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: I decided that though I didn't hit 200 reviews, it was time to update this fic. I've been writing bits between schoolwork, extra-curricular activities, etc. I couldn't resist writing the next chapter for all of you fabulous reviewers/readers. It's a long one, by the way. However, being the review whore that I am, I'm going to request 230 reviews before the next update. Evil, I know. Comply, please? For my sake, as well as for Fic-Ron and Fic-Hermione! :-)

Chapter Six: Tell Me

The next morning, Hermione stirred slightly. At the moment, her blankets seemed all encompassing. Typically, after a night's slumber, the comforter was in a ball on the floor. She blinked her brown eyes slowly. The room was coming into focus. A light breeze tickled her neck. Her back was rather warm. The blankets smelled _really _good, a combination of soap and something woodsy. The blue blanket material was balled in her hands. _Blue blankets? But Ginny has purple blankets in her room! _She let go of the blue "blanket" to realize that it was Ron's shirt. Slowly, she looked up and surveyed the position she was in.

One of Hermione's arms was thrown around Ron's waist, her hand beneath the hem of his shirt and on his muscular back. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, his breath tickling her. His lips pressed lightly beneath her ear. They were facing one another, pressed flush against each other. Their legs were entwined and his arms were firmly coiled around her waist, his hands resting beneath her shirt on the small of her back. Her other arm, which had been clutching his shirt (which she'd thought was her blanket), was resting on his rising and falling chest. Unconsciously, she started trailing the hand that was under his shirt up and down his back.

He shivered slightly and muttered, "Mm…" He pressed her closer to him. His arms were wrapped all the way around her. His hands were beneath the hemline of her shirt and he traced patterns on her stomach.

Much to her dismay, Hermione sighed aloud. It wasn't exactly _dreadful_ to wake up entangled with a handsome bloke while completely sober and to have knowledge of _exactly _what happened the night before. Which was to say…nothing at all. She and Ron merely fell asleep. She giggled inwardly. If _anyone _had told her that one day she'd be waking up in this position with _Ron Weasley_, she would've suggested the person check himself into St. Mungo's. But at the present moment, what would she say? It _was_ rather…_pleasant_ to wake up in this fashion. Instead of being enveloped by regular blankets, she was enveloped by a sixteen-year-old boy; more precisely, her best mate. _Yet it doesn't _feel_ odd… _She reached into his back pocket, grabbed his wand, and cast anti-morning breath spells on both of them.

Drowsily, Ron blinked his blue eyes open and lifted his head from her shoulder. He noticed Hermione slipping his wand into his back pocket. "'Morning, love." A lazy smirk stretched across his lips, "If you fancied a grab at my arse, you could've just asked…"

Hermione scrunched her face up in indignation, "I _beg _your pardon, Mr. Weasley! _I _am a lady and refrain from engaging in such activities…" She placed both hands behind his neck, under his shirt, and onto his shoulders. She massaged his shoulders, relieving the stress that sleeping in a ball on the couch caused. Not that he minded the stress, since he got a massage from Hermione, who was still entwined with him.

"Which is why your hands are under my shirt. You're positively wicked, Miss Granger! _You_ are violating _me_ in all my Quidditch-enhanced, muscular glory!" Ron took a hand from her stomach and started playing with her mass of curly brown hair. He tickled her nose with the end of a particularly springy curl.

She rolled her eyes, a smile creeping across her lips, "You know you love it." Her hands moved forward to his abs.

"Did I ever _object_ to your actions? No, I merely stated what you were doing." He grinned and tweaked her nose.

BANG!

A twittering came from the window outside the living room. Both sixteen-year-olds groaned and extricated themselves from each other. Something kept hitting itself on the windowsill. Ron was the first to get up. He walked across the room, opened the window, and grabbed Pigwidgeon, who clearly didn't know that glass is not only transparent, but solid as well. Ron untied the roll of parchment from Pig's leg and headed to the kitchen to read the letter and start making breakfast. Pig flew to Hermione, who was still lying on the couch. He perched on Hermione's wrist.

"Hello, Pig." She stroked his head and he "who-ed" appreciatively.

"Poppet!" Ron called from the kitchen as he started stirring some pancake batter in a bowl.

"What, darling?" Hermione reluctantly got up and walked to the kitchen.

While Ron stirred pancake batter with one hand, he studied the parchment correspondence in the other hand. "It's from the twins."

"How's the shop?" Hermione took her wand out of her back pocket and charmed the bowl in front of him to stir by itself. Pig flew from her wrist to her shoulder.

"Thanks, poppet." He paused to put some toast in the toaster. "There's no mention of the shop, but there _is _mention of a party they're having." Ron gave Pig an Owl Treat from a jar on the counter.

"What's the occasion?" She took the parchment from him and scanned down.

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Do Fred and George _ever _need an occasion to have a party?"

"No, but they typically invent a new holiday." She read aloud,

_Ickle Ronniekins and Lovely Hermione:_

"How'd they know I'm staying here?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron.

Ron shrugged, "Maybe Mum and Dad Owled and told them."

"Owled from the cruise ship?" She gave him a dubious look, then continued to read,

_You are cordially invited to our fantastic loft in London for one of our infamous Weasley shindigs. The occasion is (according to Ginny) that it's There's Only A Month Left of Summer Day. You kids need _something _memorable to do the summer before your seventh year. _

**Sniff. They grow up so fast! Unless you two want to have a nice shag to make this summer particularly memorable—**

_Shut. UP. George, _I'm _writing the invitation. _

**What! I was kidding, Fred…**

_You jest not, Twin. Anyway, before George continues to suggest what kinds of activities you two should engage in, I shall give the rest of the information. _

_Date: Tonight_

_Time: Six p.m. until the rest of the building calls the Muggle police_

_Attire: Dress to impress. (No wizard robes. No maroon jumpers, Ron. And Hermione, if it matters, Ginny is wearing a rather stunning dress. We tried to get her to buy the shapeless potato sack, but she insisted on a little green number. Don't know whom _she's _trying to impress…) Bring an escort. _

_I suppose since your wardrobes are substantial (since we got you more clothes, Ronniekins), all you two need is an escort. Oh wait! Ron, you're a bloke, and Hermione, you're a bird…so since it's biologically convenient, you two might as well go with each other… _

_R.S.V.P. in spite of the fact we'll expect you there,_

_Fred_

**And George! **

"Shall we go?" Ron asked Hermione as he finished scrambling eggs and rationing everything onto two plates.

"Yeah," Hermione took a quill and piece of parchment from the desk across from the kitchen table and began to scribble a response, "It's not as though we had anything else planned."

"We've already been to all of the _other _clubs where we had sex with random strangers, anyway. What about trying that _new _swinger's club?" Ron asked with a straight face.

"No, that's tomorrow night." Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

_Fred and George:_

_See you at six. Then again, we may be fashionably late. Who knows?_

_Hermione and Ron_

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table and ate breakfast in a companionable silence, looking up occasionally to exchange grins.

At three o'clock, Hermione put a bookmark in her latest read. Cornelius Fudge and Gilderoy Lockhart collaborated to write a book about their current stay at St. Mungo's called _Once Upon a Time, We were Famous Blokes… _As enthralling a read as it was, she needed to get ready for the twins' party.

"Poppet, we've got _three hours_!" Ron tugged on her bare foot to make her sit down by him on the blanket outside; they were picnicking by the lake. He was reading _Pride and Prejudice_, one of Hermione's favorites.

"Not if we _don't _want to Floo there! We can take the Muggle underground." She brushed off her shorts and stretched.

"Why can't we Floo?" He lay on his back on the checkered blanket.

She looked down at him, "I don't know about you, darling, but I don't want to get my fantastic dress dirty."

Ron's ears perked up, "Fantastic dress?"

Hermione smiled secretly to herself and sauntered towards The Burrow.

"What fantastic dress!" He sat up again and called to her retreating form. "Why haven't _I _seen this fantastic dress?!"

_Flashback _

During the week of the Commencement Ball, the Hogwarts professors made a conscious effort to captivate their pupils' attentions.

There was never a more futile attempt at anything.

Every bit of information the students retained was about the ball: who was going with whom, how much dresses cost, who would become a couple as a result of going together, and did Dumbledore _really_ hire some American Muggle band to play?

The day of the ball, the castle was bustling with last minute preparations for the ball. The house elves were cooking a feast in the kitchens. Gaggles of girls shrieked if packs of boys passed by. Professors were ordering the Prefects around to try to maintain _some _kind of order, to no avail. The ball started at eight o'clock, but Prefects and the Head Boy and Head Girl had to be patrolling in front of the Great Hall's doors at seven o'clock.

Hermione and Ron hadn't seen each other for more than five minutes the entire day.

By some sick twist of fate, Hermione had been assigned to patrols with Draco again. After his father was imprisoned at Azkaban, Draco's friends left school and pledged allegiance to Voldemort. Instead of doing what was expected of him and join them, Draco revealed that he was the one who turned Lucius in and stayed at Hogwarts. He seemed much more at ease since his faux friends' departure and was a rather charming bloke. Ron tried to push these thoughts out of his mind and reminded himself that Hermione was going with him to the ball and not with Draco.

Around six twenty in the sixth year boys' dormitory, Ron had just gotten out of the shower. He dried off, put on boxers and stepped into the room itself, where the other four boys were lounging on their four-poster beds.

Harry laughed, "Go down to the Common Room like that. Hermione will _surely _jump you in all your half-nakedness."

Ron rummaged through his trunk for some socks and threw a balled-up pair at Harry's head. He gathered his clothes and took them back to the bathroom.

"Better yet, take _off _the boxers and go downstairs starkers!" Seamus snickered.

Suddenly, a bar of soap flew out of the bathroom and hit Seamus between the eyes.

"Ooh, feisty. I think _someone's _nervous about his date with his lady fair!" Dean clutched at his heart and feigned swooning.

Ron brushed his teeth, still trying to ignore the other boys' comments.

"_When _and _how _exactly did you ask Hermione to the ball?" Seamus prodded. He rubbed his forehead and decided he'd recovered from the soap injury, "C'mon, mate. You can tell us. Again. Because the fact that the Prefects bathroom has become the most romantic spot to ask a girl to a ball has completely slipped my mind—"

Ron blushed furiously as he sprayed on some cologne.

"All of you are jealous because Hermione's quite pretty." Neville replied, "And you lot—" He gestured to Seamus and Dean, "—thought you had a chance."

At this, Ron laughed.

"Harry, I know _you _weren't planning on asking Hermione, since you asked Ginny—"

Ron stopped laughing and poked his head out of the bathroom. "What?!"

"Er, I mean…" Neville looked at Ron wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights.

Ron had been so consumed by his Prefect duties and had been worried about how things were with Hermione that he'd completely forgotten to ask Harry who _he _was taking to the ball.

"Heh, heh." Harry forced a chuckle, "I didn't tell you about that, Ron?"

"No, you didn't…" Ron pulled on black trousers and tucked a silk, light blue button-up shirt into the trousers.

"Well, uh, surprise!" Harry held up his hands in a "surprise!" type of gesture. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously.

"You two are just…" Ron's voice trailed off as he flipped the collar of his shirt up, tied a dark blue and light blue vertically striped tie on, and smoothed the collar over his tie.

"Friends? Oh yeah, yeah, yeah…that's why I asked her, actually. So as to eliminate any awkwardness that would result from going with a…non…friend…" Harry shifted uneasily on his four-poster.

"Good." Ron dried his hair magically, fringe falling into his blue eyes. After pulling on black socks and tying his black shoes, he emerged, causing the other four boys to whistle and tease him some more. "Shite! I almost forgot…" He reached into a box that was on his trunk. He opened it and removed a smaller box containing a white daisy corsage.

"Never seen one of _those _before…" Seamus scoffed and shook his head, "What kind of corsage is _that_?"

Ron looked affronted, "A white daisy corsage with little pink rosebuds around it."

The other boys looked utterly confused.

"I made it myself." He muttered.

They went from utter confusion to bursting into hysterics within two seconds.

Glancing at the dormitory clock, he saw it was six forty. Five minutes until he was supposed to meet Hermione in the Common Room. He paced back and forth for a few moments, carefully holding the corsage box. At six forty-two, he decided to go to the Common Room.

"Good luck!" Dean called.

"Be safe!" Seamus tossed a scrap of parchment at him, which he immediately threw back, since it had the spell for contraceptive charm on it.

"Don't step on her toes while dancing!" Neville advised, ironically.

"Don't be nervous, it's just Hermione!" Harry grinned as Ron waved to all of them.

Ron stood in the Common Room, glancing at the clock every two seconds. At six forty-seven, Hermione descended the sixth year girls' stairwell. His jaw dropped.

Hermione wore a gown with a sleeveless pale pink bodice and an A-line skirt with white tulle peeking from beneath the hemline. The skirt skimmed the floor and made a swooshing sound as she walked. She wore a dainty string of pearls, pearl earrings, and white spiked heels. Her brown curly hair was piled atop her head by a large rubber band of some sort, a few loose curls framing her face. She smiled at him, her brown eyes sparkling.

"Sorry I'm late." Hermione apologized, "My hair wasn't working with me…"

"Quite the contrary, love. This…this is for you." Ron took the corsage out of the box and slipped it onto her wrist. "I made it myself. Sorry if it looks stupid—"

"Ron!" Hermione grinned, "It's lovely. I can't believe you _made _it…" She admired it on her wrist.

"Well, I started growing daisies in the Greenhouse and Professor Sprout let me clip a few of her rosebuds. She grows normal flowers as well as Herbology-related plants." His hand lingered on her wrist a bit longer than necessary.

Hermione took his blue-stained carnation boutonniere out of the box she held and pinned it to his shirt. "I didn't make this, I bought it."

"It's grand." He gaped at her with a dazed look on his face, "You look…" Words seemed to fail him at this point. He tried again, "You look more gorgeous than usual. Which is to say…_quite_ gorgeous."

She laughed, "We must make a rather attractive pair, seeing as how _you_ look more handsome than usual."

_End flashback_

"Poppet, I haven't _got _all day!" Ron yelled over The Clash, which was blasting in Hermione's room.

"Patience is a virtue, Ron!" She screamed back, "Lost in the Supermarket" almost drowning her voice out.

"After being _your _friend for almost seven years, you'd think I'd have picked it up by now…" Ron muttered, only to find the music no longer played and Hermione appeared in front of him. It was almost as though she Apparated silently, as Harry and Moody had the day before.

Ron attempted to swallow but found his throat was parched. _Wonder why _that _is… _He surveyed Hermione. _Bloody hell! That _is _a fantastic dress… _She wore a clingy red dress that stopped right above her knees. It had skinny straps, a neckline that bordered risqué, and a ruffled, asymmetrical skirt. A ruby necklace rested an inch above the neckline and she wore red sandals with thin straps. Her hair was parted and cascaded in soft curls onto her shoulders. She wore a faux red flower tucked behind her ear and ruby earrings. __

Hermione shifted anxiously. Ron wore a fitted white silk shirt untucked and tight black v-neck sweater over it, straight-legged gray trousers, black socks and his shiny black shoes. The sweater sleeves and shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms. _Ooh…it's A Sweater…_

"A sexy sweater…" As soon as the words slipped, Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Ron raised an eyebrow. Nevertheless, she continued giving him an extended once-over.

Not to say Ron wasn't doing the same. "That's probably the most fantastic dress I've seen in my _life_…"

"Ron, you've got something there." She brushed his lip with her thumb, "A spot of drool."

Ron elbowed Hermione playfully. "Can't help it." She rolled her eyes. "Shall we?" He offered her his arm. Instead, she took his hand and their fingers interlaced.

_At Fred and George's loft_

By the time Ron and Hermione took the tube, then a taxi to the infamous Weasley half-bachelor pad (Fred and Angelina had gotten together at the beginning of the summer and she could often be found in Fred's room…), it was six-fifteen. They stood on the twins' front porch and rung the buzzer.

Over the intercom, they heard, "Oy! Whosit?" Apparently, George had already started getting sloshed. He was laughing hysterically at nothing at all.

"It's Ron and Hermione, you mad lush!" Ron yelled into the speaker as he pressed the button.

The door buzzer rang and they ascended the spiral staircase to the seventeenth floor. They heard the pulsating music from ten flights down, but no one had complained as of late. Probably because they were all invited to the party. The twins' door swung open and an inebriated Fred and Angelina, who kept snogging between sips from their drinks, yanked them into the loft. Strobe and disco lights lit up the loft. People were packed into every inch of the downstairs and various couples were upstairs occupying the bedrooms. Everyone yelled over the throbbing beat of the techno music that blared from the gigantic speakers the twins purchased recently.

"Fancy a drink?" Ron asked Hermione as they sidestepped throngs of people dancing against each other, attempting to make their way to the food and drinks.

"WHAT?!" Hermione yelled into Ron's ear.

"FANCY A DRINK?!" He screamed back into her ear. His hand tugged her towards the punchbowl and shoved a black-haired bloke dressed in a gray blazer with a black t-shirt underneath, black pants, and two-toned shoes out of the way. The bloke was talking to a little redhead scantily clad in a backless green dress with an impossibly low neckline and short skirt.

"OY!" Harry yelled agitatedly, then turned around and grinned while screaming, "BOTH OF YOU! YOU CAME! HOLDING HANDS! DRESSED IMPECCABLY! ARE YOU TWO…TOGETHER?!

"WHAT?! WE'RE NOT…NO…ERRRR…" Ron shifted uneasily, his hand tightening on Hermione's. He diverted his attention to the girl Harry had been talking to. "GINNY?! WHAT ARE YOU _WEARING_?! OR WHAT _AREN'T _YOU WEARING, IS THE BETTER QUESTION! _THAT _IS NOT A DRESS! THAT'S—THAT'S—"

Hermione patted his arm, joining the loud conversation, "RON, I THINK GINNY LOOKS QUITE LOVELY!"

George turned the music down just in time for Harry to scream, "ME TOO!"

Everyone in the party halted what they were doing to look at Harry. Harry coughed uncomfortably and gave a little wave, so they resumed their previous activities.

Ron glared menacingly at Harry, his voice lowered to a growl, "Harry, you're my best mate and everything, but if you _dare _lay a _finger _on Ginny in an inappropriate manner—"

"Ron. Stop with the intimidating older brother act! I'm fifteen. Only a year younger than _you _lot. Besides, we went to the Commencement Ball together and you didn't have a problem with it then! Well, not a _huge _problem…" Ginny put a hand on her hip, the other holding her eighth glass of lemonade. She turned to Harry, "Care to dance?"

Harry looked nervously from a very red-faced Ron to Ginny. "Er—yeah!"

Ron rolled his eyes and got him and Hermione two glasses of lemonade. It was safe to say that the lemonade wasn't spiked, seeing as how Ginny had drunk eight glasses of it and wasn't swaying and slurring her speech like a lush. Over winter break, she and her brothers had a contest of who could do shots and even if it was the first time she ever drank, she won, beating Fred by four. Since then, she hadn't touched a drop. Ron and Hermione toasted and clicked their plastic glasses together.

A familiar guitar riff played over the speakers. Hermione's mouth dropped, her brown eyes lit up. She turned to Ron with an expectant look on her face.

"No." He immediately responded, suppressing a laugh.

She pouted, her bottom lip jutting out.

"_Pop-pet…_" He whined, "You _know _what _The Pout_ does to me…"

She batted her eyelashes innocently, "Does it make you obey my every command? Yeah, I recall that occurring a few times before…"

"You can't _possibly _want to dance to—_this_."

"C'mon, Ron. It's _The Darkness_! Last week, you played the song I taught you to play by them." Hermione was a much better guitarist than Ron. Both of them knew that fact. She'd been playing since she was six, when her father Dr. Granger started teaching her on his acoustic guitar. Because of her perfectionist attitude towards everything, she'd surpassed her father Dr. Granger's musical talents. She loved playing The Darkness on her electric guitar.

He feigned annoyance, "Fine, fine… But I'm doing this for you, I'll have you know."

She grinned, "I know. And we can dance slow." She added hastily, "Since there's no _proper _way to dance to bands like this." _Cough. Er. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Hermione. Perhaps you'll convince yourself of it, too. _

"All right, then." _Dancing close to Hermione? Excellent idea… Erm… What I meant to say was…oh bloody hell! _

They set their drinks down on the table and moved towards the middle of the floor.

Hermione and Ron squeezed onto the pseudo-dance floor that the twins conjured in the middle of their living room. __

_I can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feel  
My heart's in overdrive and you're behind the steering wheel  
  
Touching you, touching me  
Touching you, God you're touching me  
  
_

Their hands unclasped. Ron's arms wrapped around her waist and Hermione's arms encircled his neck. They started swaying._  
  
_

_I believe in a thing called love  
Just listen to the rhythm of my heart  
There's a chance we could make it now  
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down  
I believe in a thing called love  
Ooh!  
  
_

Imperceptibly, the distance of a foot between the two slowly lessened. Within a minute, they were a half-foot away from each other.

_  
I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day  
You got me in a spin but everything is a-okay!  
  
Touching you, touching me  
Touching you, God you're touching me  
  
_

They laughed at the horrible lyrics. Ron's hand traveled from her waist to rest on her back. Hermione toyed with the hair at the nape of Ron's neck.

_  
I believe in a thing called love  
Just listen to the rhythm of my heart  
There's a chance we could make it now  
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down  
I believe in a thing called love  
Ooh! Get down!  
  
_

She pushed his hair out of his eyes. He tucked a curl behind her ear and tweaked her nose.__

_Touching you, touching me  
Touching you, God you're touching me  
  
_

"Hey, love, I have to tell you something." Ron stared at his best girl mate.

They warbled, still inching closer, "I believe in a thing called loooooooooooooooove! Oooooh!"

_Just listen to the rhythm of my heart  
There's a chance we could make it now  
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down  
I believe in a thing called love  
Ooh!_

After ceasing their laughter, Hermione asked, "Tell me what—"

Swiftly, Ron tilted his head to the right and leaned forward. His eyes shut and his lips brushed hers. Hermione stood completely still, stunned, eyes wide, watching Ron kiss her. Clearly, it didn't register with her the first time, so his lips pressed harder against hers. He stopped to make eye contact with her. This time, she responded by pulling him back to her by the collar.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. Reflexively, her head tilted to the right and she kissed him feverishly, one hand clutching the hair that fell over the nape of his neck. Their mouths melded together. He pulled her waist towards his so they were pressed flush against each other. They'd stopped swaying, but both were reeling from the impact of the kiss. Their lips and tongues tangled, long kisses accented by short pecks. His hands went to the back of her neck and pressed on it, trying to get closer to her than physically possible. Her embrace tightened and he was the first to break their contact for air. He nibbled her ear and kissed down her neck to her collarbone, then trailed feather-light kisses up the other side of her neck. She giggled and impatiently grabbed his face in her hands, catching his lips with hers.

Abruptly, she stopped and began laughing. Her hands went to the nape of his neck.

"What!" Ron's ears and face reddened, his arms still tightly encircling her waist.

Hermione rested her forehead on his, shoulders shaking from laughter, "My first kiss was to a song by The Darkness!"

"Rather appropriate, eh?" Ron wiggled his eyebrows.

Everyone in the party was cheering. Funny how they didn't even realize that a hundred people had been whistling and screaming "Finally!" for almost twenty minutes. Embarrassedly, Hermione extricated herself from Ron to curtsy. He bowed in return.

Exchanging glances, Ron asked with a roguish smirk, "Would you mind if I had to tell you something again?"

"Not particularly." Hermione shook her head.

Author's note: How was it? Good? Horrid? Good fluff? Bad fluff? I realize that they're out of character, but I figured that both would mature with age. Is it worthy of a total of 230 reviews? Hehehe. Read and review, my friends, and the next update shall come faster!


	7. Ch 7: What can I say

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's notes: I apologize profusely for the delay! Thank all of you reviewers SO MUCH for the encouraging reviews! A hurricane is on its way towards where I live, which has contributed to the reasons for my not updating sooner. People are going insane! It's like the apocalypse is coming! At any rate, I love all of you! Enjoy!

Chapter Seven: What can I say?

After Ron _told _Hermione the second bit of _information _that he had to, the two parted. Hermione's hand flew up to her mouth and her brown eyes widened in shock. They were still standing in the middle of the dance floor, in impossibly close proximity to each other. His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist; one of her arms was draped around his shoulders. By now, the party had started up again. _Almost_ all focus was diverted away from Ron and Hermione.

Clustered by the food and drinks table, George started a pool of people betting money on what the two would do next. He scribbled furiously on a spare napkin with a random quill he found lying on the floor.

"A Galleon that Hermione runs away." Harry slapped the coin on the table.

"Ten Knuts that Ron snogs her senseless and makes her melt into a little Hermione puddle." Ginny hiked up her skirt and removed a small coin purse from the garter on her upper thigh and poured the coins onto the growing pile. Harry watched with interest as she hiked up her skirt again to return the coin purse.

"Oy! Pervert! Quit looking at my sister like she's a Nimbus 2005." Fred smacked the back of Harry's head and rolled his eyes. Fred turned to Angelina, who whispered something into his ear. His eyebrows rose, "We'll be back later." They made a mad dash upstairs to Fred's bedroom.

George shook his head, "Animals."

It seemed as though Harry's eyes were magnetically attracted to Ginny. _Maybe she'll whisper something into _my_ ear and _we _can make a mad dash for a bedroom. _Harry blushed furiously. _You're a randy old bastard, Harry! This is _Ron's _sister! Not to mention the twins', Bill's, Charlie's, and Per—well, he doesn't count. But **still**…_

Ginny eyed him with a quizzical look on her face, "You alright, Harry?"

He wiped sweat from his brow, "Yeah, yeah! Splendid. Why do you ask?"

"You look a little…flustered." Her hand went to his forehead, "You feel a bit hot." She stepped forward, examining his face. _Hot, literally and figuratively… Ack! Don't think such things! He's Ron's best mate…who's a bloke. And that's a lame insinuation._ __

Seamus coughed and elbowed Dean.

"_I _say that Ron's going to attempt to engage in a serious discussion about this, but Hermione will only be up for serious snogging. I'll put ten Sickles on it." Seamus said, still staring at Harry and Ginny.

"I second that." Dean contributed his money, watching Harry and Ginny, all the while.

"I say _all_ of you are wrong!" Neville audaciously declared. "Hermione's assertive. Ron will be the one who's stumbling over his words about the whole idea of them being together. _And_, he'll say something to annoy her. So after they have their chat, she'll run back to the Weasleys' home. He'll follow her, and when he finally catches up with her, and he'll _then _snog her senseless." Neville added, "I'll put _three _Galleons on it."

George raised his eyebrows. "Interestingly thorough prediction, Neville. But _how _will we be able to see who wins this lovely pot of money?"

Harry cleared his throat, "Moody had me set up surveillance on The Burrow. I can watch it and tell you what happened."

"How do we know you won't lie—"George paused, then did a double-take, "You set up _surveillance _on The Burrow?!"

"Moody's orders. He said we have to protect the surrogate Minister of Magic's home." Harry rolled his green eyes, "Load of shite, if you ask me."

George stroked his stubbly chin pensively, "So we could spy—"

Ginny shuddered, "Not that it's even the _least _bit creepy to do so…"

"—er, _observe_ the two…lovebirds?" George asked.

"Only the main hallways where villains could be skulking around. But it _will _have audio…on the floor Ron and Hermione are staying on, at least." Harry replied. "Eh, on second thought, this _can't_ be a good idea…"

"Au contraire, Harry." George patted the accumulating pile of money on the food and drinks table. "Anything that would support whoever's prediction is worth it."

Harry shrugged, "I suppose."

_Meanwhile, in the middle of the dance floor…_

Ron put his hands on both sides Hermione's face and made her make eye contact with him, "Are you alright with this, love?"

"I…well, er… What can I _say_?" She mentally berated herself. _This is just Ron! Why are you stumbling over your words?! Stupid prat. He's making me act…sigh. _

"Oh, I dunno." His hands slid from her face, down her arms, and took her hands in his. Goosebumps followed the trail his hands made. "You can say…what you think. About us, being…how we were a few minutes ago."

She narrowed her eyes at him, tugging him to follow her to a more secluded place to chat. "And how _were _we, Mr. Weasley?"

He shrugged as they walked, holding hands, and found an armchair that was pushed into a quiet corner that was void of people. He sat cross-legged and pulled her into his lap so her legs were draped over the chair's arm. "We were in a position that was…further-than-mates usually go."

Hermione gasped, feigning shock, "_Really_! I had no idea… And it's not as though we've _ever _been in any _other _positions that would suggest that as well. Like when we spooned by the lake or slept together—"

The music stopped abruptly. Everyone gasped. Across the room, George, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus' jaws dropped in shock.

Hermione gaped in shock, "Not _that _way!"

Everyone exhaled loudly. A few yelled, "Damn!" The music played again, but George and the Hogwarts lot kept averting their attention to Ron and Hermione.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Well, _Miss Granger_, to put it in more concise terms, the state we were in a few minutes ago was that akin to people who are…" His voice dropped to a whisper, "…_together. _As in, 'Hello, my name is Ron. This is my blunt, but lovely girlfriend Hermione,' together."

"Honestly, Ron. Everyone _saw _us in _that state_ as you so delicately put it. Two seconds ago, they assumed we'd already _slept _together! There's no need to _whisper_!" She replied almost indignantly and at an audible volume.

"You keep evading my question, poppet." One hand drew _my love _in the palm of her hand. The other went to her neck and massaged it.

Her eyes closed instinctively and she leaned into the massage. Her eyes flew open, "You keep distracting me from answering it."

He looked at her impatiently, his hand trailing up and down her back. "Don't make me _die _here, not knowing."

"It's not as though _you've _said anything to _make _me want to tell you." She nuzzled his neck.

"Fine." Ron said, shrugging her head off of his shoulder. She harrumphed, to which he replied, "I need to look at you properly before I say anything." He fidgeted with his ring, then with hers.

"Okay…" Hermione cocked her head to the side.

"Hermione…" He paused to inhale deeply, "…as you've deduced, I fancy you. A lot. I can't place a specific time with when I discovered this, since the realization's been so gradual, but the fact is…I do. I'm a bloody prat for not telling you and trying to pass off what's been occurring between us as 'best mates'…er…occurrences. The thing is, I've been denying it for so long because…I'm an oblivious bloke."

"I was _completely_ unaware of that fact." She interjected, smiling.

"Glad you find this so amusing." He replied with a half-smile and went on, "I _do _know that it's the little things that made me realize it, though. This curl—" He tucked it behind her ear. "—_always _comes loose and falls into your left eye no matter what. You get _so _aggravated when people read over your shoulder, but whenever I do it, we end up having a tickling fight, which leads to wrestling _of sorts_."

"Git." She shoved him.

He smirked, "You never say outright that you want a hug. Instead, you coyly lean your forehead against my chest, so I have _no choice_ but to comply. Your music taste is eclectic, but sometimes, to put it frankly, horrid…"

Her mouth dropped in indignation. She was about to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

"You could be rereading the revised edition of _Hogwarts: A History _for the billionth time when the world comes to an end and you wouldn't notice because you're concentrating _so_ bloody hard on the text…" He paused and he moved his finger to trace her jaw line, and then toy with the stubborn curl that always came loose. "But the monumental thing that _probably_ made me realize _subconsciously _that I fancied you happened at the Commencement Ball."

"The _Commencement Ball_?!" Hermione huffed, "Why the bloody hell have you waited _this _long to tell me?!"

Ron defensively replied, "_You _haven't let on until recently that _you _may've—y'know—"

"Fancied you? _Please_. I was blatantly _obvious _about it. Though I didn't _know _I was being obvious about it, since I've been in complete denial until tonight." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I always looked for excuses to watch you play Quidditch."

"I figured you had an epiphany and realized how brilliant of a sport it is—" He stopped mid-sentence, "Okay, yeah, that should've been a hint…"

"Not to mention, I only watched on humid days—"

"—when we practiced shirtless." He smirked.

"I criticized every girl who would try to seduce or date you…"

"Millicent Bullstrode and those random fifth years aren't exactly worthy of praise…"

"I'd take any opportunity to sit in your lap or give you a hug…"

"I thought that you were just being…affectionate. In a best mate way…"

"Honestly Ron, did you ever see me do anything like _that_ with _Harry_? Remember him? Our _other_ best mate?" She gave him a dubious look. "Besides, he broods too much. I need someone who can make me laugh. And someone whose feelings I don't have to tiptoe around."

"But we've gotten into the stupidest of rows—"

"Our bickering has evolved into bantering." She leaned her head on his chest, "At least you noticed that I did _this _loads." Her arms went around him and she placed a quick kiss on his neck.

He raised an eyebrow and he pulled her closer to him, his arms wrapped around her. "I reckon we're more than best mates, now?"

She rolled her eyes, "Ron Weasley, you're the _most_ oblivious boy I've _ever _met."

"Yeah, but you, Hermione Granger, have always been someone who enjoys a challenge." Before she could refute that statement, he hooked his finger under her chin, tilted her face upwards, and kissed her again. His lips slid over hers teasingly, and she gave into the slow, rhythmic way he kissed her. Which was to say, _quite _well.

After five minutes of sensual snogging, Hermione said, "You're incorrigible, you know that?" Inaudibly she sighed.

"So you've told me before, love." Ron shrugged and the corner of his mouth turned upwards.

"Why are you smirking? Do you find something particularly _comical_ about snogging?"

Ron feigned contemplation for a moment, "While it's quite fun, there's nothing _comical _about snogging." His lips stretched into a full grin, "Hermione Granger was my first brilliant girl best mate, subconscious unrequited love for six years, and the first girl I spooned with. And now she's my girlfriend."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled in return. "Ron Weasley was my first excellent boy best mate, perpetually self-denying schoolgirl crush, and the first boy I spooned with and snogged. And now he's my first boyfriend."

"Funny how it happens in that order, you little vixen." He said smugly.

Suddenly, she glared at him, jumped out of his lap, and began weaving through the throng of dancing people to the door.

"Hermione!" Ron called after her and followed in eager pursuit.

George and the Hogwarts lot saw Hermione awkwardly run past and out the door. Neville gave Harry a pointed look. Harry looked at all of the Hogwarts lot and George. Each gave him the same look that cried, "Take it for the team, Harry! Who cares if you're spying on your best mate and his girlfriend, who's your platonic best _girl _mate!"

Ginny batted her eyelashes jokingly, "Please, Harry?"

Harry nodded with a sigh, conceding to go along with the bet, "Fine. I'll go to Auror headquarters now."

Seamus snickered, "Remind me to ask you to flutter your eyelashes at Harry when the Nimbus 2006 comes out." He elbowed Ginny.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

Harry gave Neville, Dean, Seamus, and George hetero-bloke hugs. A simultaneous handshake and three pats on the back; a pat per unspoken word, "I'm not gay!" He turned to Ginny, whose arms snaked around his neck, her cheek pressed to his. His arms went to her waist and both embraced until George began hacking loudly. They jerked apart. Harry started self-consciously flattening his unruly black hair. Ginny blushed and bit the corner of her lip.

With that, Harry silently Apparated to Auror headquarters.

_Flashback_

The Great Hall was a flurry of colors. Each house decorated part of the Hall and Professor Sprout magically strung chains of flowers floating in midair around the room. Dumbledore charmed a stage in the middle of the floor where some random American Muggle band was going to play. No one, save Hermione and her mates, had heard of them before. Apparently, they were a new, mellower techno-ish genre of a band. The Prefects and Head Boy and Head Girl got to the Hall first. After surveying the room, they went outside into the corridor to monitor the doors.

Hermione's grip on Ron's arm tightened as Millicent Bullstrode charged towards them. Ron steered them into the gaggle of their mates. Harry and Ginny, Dean and Parvati, Seamus and Lavender, and Neville and Luna. The eight were chatting merrily when Ron and Hermione wedged themselves into the middle of their circle.

"Hide us!" Ron pleaded, jerking his head towards Millicent, who was searching the corridor to find where he and Hermione disappeared to.

"Mate, it's not easy when you're a foot taller than the rest of us…" Harry clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder and shoved him down, so he sat in the middle of the circle on the floor. "Now, Hermione we can hide. She's about a foot _shorter _than the rest of us…"

Hermione was about to protest but realized Ron was sitting on the floor. She promptly sat in his lap. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. "Didn't want you feeling forlorn down here."

"Miss Granger, I'm appalled! You're abandoning your Prefect duties to prevent me from feeling _lonely_…" He wiggled his eyebrows, insinuatingly.

"Forlorn, Mr. Weasley! I never said _lonely_, I said _forlorn_!" She corrected him, turning her nose up.

The rest of the group looked down at the two. Harry whistled. Dean and Seamus winked and elbowed each other. Neville gave Ron an uncharacteristically sly grin. Lavender and Parvati giggled insanely. Luna and Ginny snickered at how red both Ron and Hermione were becoming by the minute.

"Head Boy and Head Girl! Prefects!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang over the buzzing from the students' chatter.

The chatter desisted and Ron and Hermione sprung up from the floor. They joined their fellow Prefects in front of the doors to the Great Hall.

"Slytherin Prefects—Malfoy and Parkinson, you two open the doors. Our Head Boy and Head Girl will lead the rest of you into the Hall. Hagrid will act as—how do I put this…crowd control—" Professor McGonagall shook her head disapprovingly.

The Prefects tittered at her word choice.

"—for the rest of the students. You are expected to dance. You must set an example for the rest of the school. Head Boy and Head Girl lead the first dance. You and your partners follow in the second dance with all of the other students. Is that clear?"

Head Boy and Head Girl nodded, as did the Prefects.

"Excellent." She waved a hand, "Now off you go!"

Draco and Pansy opened the doors. Pansy did so rather grudgingly. The Head Boy and Girl led the rest of the Prefects into the Great Hall. Hagrid stood by, keeping all of the other students back before letting them run loose.

Ron and Hermione entered the Hall and found a long table for ten adjacent to the stage where they and their mates could sit. They took seat beside each other. As soon as all students were seated in the Great Hall, the American Muggle band called The Postal Service came onstage. Hermione squealed excitedly and Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Luna applauded appreciatively. Hermione's American cousin burned her The Postal Service's CD when she visited her cousin a couple of years ago. Hermione felt obligated to share good music with her mates, so they could be in touch with music in other realms of the world.

In what he thought was an imperceptive manner, Ron scooted his chair towards Hermione's. While her back was half-turned towards him, Hermione noticed his warm breath on her neck. Their hands were on the table. Hermione nudged his pinky with hers, a slight smile stretching across her lips. First, he linked his pinky with hers. She snickered, but found the rest of his fingers entwining with hers.

Harry leaned toward Ginny and whispered, "When are they going to realize how bloody perfect they are for each other?"

Ginny shrugged with a wistful sigh, "No idea."

Seamus butted into the conversation, "I reckon about the time when _you _two realize the same."

Harry and Ginny exchanged embarrassed looks as The Postal Service introduced themselves and began to play.

_End flashback_

Harry sighed exasperatedly as he Apparated into Auror headquarters. "What've I gotten myself into?" He asked himself as he flicked his wand around to turn on all of the surveillance equipment.

Author's notes: Oh, the drama! Well, sort of. What'd you think? Like it? Hate it? Too short? Quite fluffy, I realize, but that's what I'm all about. Too fluffy? Not enough fluff? Read and review! I think I'll update when I have 400 reviews. Quite a lot, but life's completely hectic right now, and I don't know if I'll even have power in the next week or two. Thanks again!


	8. Ch 8: What am I gonna do

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's notes: I couldn't deny all of you awesome reviewers this chapter any longer! This upcoming month is going to be a crazy one, but I'll try to update as much as possible. Perhaps if I got 400 reviews after _this _chapter? Thank you so much for the fantastic reviews! Please continue to give me more feedback by reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Eight: What am I gonna do?

What the bloody hell just happened?!

Ron could hardly comprehend it.

He made _one _sly comment and Hermione rushed down the endless flights of stairs in the twins' half-bachelor flat building and towards the Muggle Underground. It wasn't as though he _didn't_ make insinuations by the minute! What had gotten into Hermione, anyway? Her behavior was absurd. She reacted as a _stereotypical _girl would… And he knew that she was _anything _but that.

To be quite frank, Hermione didn't know what the bloody hell just happened, either.

All she knew at that moment was she was running. Rather fast, too, considering that she was wearing strappy sandals with substantial heels. Gusts of wind blew her hair into disarray. She stopped at the curb on Oxford Street and hailed a taxicab. She jumped into it and yelled, "Bond Street Station!"

"Right, then, miss!" The taxicab driver accelerated to a few blocks away, "Dunno why you bothered taking my cab, but—"

Hermione found a pound on the floor of the cab. She hastily threw the fare into the passenger seat and over her shoulder said, "Keep the change!" She rushed out of the taxicab and through the automatic doors. Hermione purchased her coin purse at the same shop Ginny purchased hers. Several onlookers watched as Hermione hiked up her skirt to retrieve the coin purse from its garter holder. She began rummaging through the coin purse.

Ron was in the taxicab right behind her. He ran into the station after her. He glared at the randy blokes who were standing in the other queues to have their tickets scanned; they seemed distracted by Hermione's unconventional way of storing her money. The blokes suddenly remembered what they were doing as soon as they caught Ron's jealous, annoyed look and hurried along.

"Shite!" Hermione dropped her ticket. It started spinning in the air away from her, but Ron inconspicuously Accio-ed it so it didn't fly away. Irritated, she stomped her foot.

"There you are." Ron didn't even comment on her swearing and held her ticket, which she promptly snatched from him.

She pivoted and shoved her ticket into the scanning machine. She put her coin purse back into its garter and walked briskly away. He rolled his eyes. It took exactly three strides to catch up to her. She hopped onto an escalator to the second floor. He rode on the step directly behind her.

"Hermione, you're being ridiculous…" Ron clapped a hand onto her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

Hermione strode towards the appropriate train stop and waited, rocking back and forth on her heels impatiently, arms crossed over her chest.

Ron stood beside her. "Care to tell me why you suddenly ran away?"

She shook her head, not making eye contact with him, "Absolutely not."

He gritted his teeth, but kept his voice civil. In fact, his voice wavered slightly, pleadingly. "Hermione, _please _look at me."

She complied, her expression slightly softening. "Yes?"

The train stopped in front of them. The doors opened and they stepped on, taking seats in an empty compartment adjacent to the doors. She wiggled her toes in her sandals, attempting to regenerate the blood circulation to her feet.

"You're acting _so _strangely…" Ron stared at her, but her eyes were still on her toes. He turned her cheek towards him. "What did I say to offend you?"

"I don't _know_, Ron." Hermione shrugged, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Then why'd you run?" He placed his hand on top of hers.

"Upon reflection, I suppose I was being rather daft." She half-laughed, "It was _quite_ uncharacteristic of me to act so illogically…"

"I'll say." As soon as he said it, he winced, "Poppet, don't take that to offense—"

She raised a hand to interrupt him. "Now that I think about it, I _suppose_ I was annoyed. Even if you make insinuative comments _all the time_, I guess _I_ thought _you_ thought I was a vixen/slag for doing those _other_ things with you—"

"Since spooning and falling asleep are _such _slag-y things to do…" Ron interjected dryly.

"—and_ that _annoyed me. Because _I_ know I'm not a slag! And the thought briefly crossed my mind that perhaps you snogged me out of convenience. I'm your best girl mate who happens to be staying for the summer at your house—"

"You thought that load of shite _after _I told you how I, Ron Weasley, am _completely_ and _utterly_ infatuated with you?!" He looked at her incredulously as the train came to a stop. He slipped an arm around her waist. She slipped one around his waist. They stepped off of the train and began the relatively short trek to The Burrow.

"—and you figured it'd be easy to, I don't know…er…sleep with me _the other way_…" She muttered.

Ron stopped walking as they found themselves in front of The Burrow. He turned to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders. The sky was grey and a few raindrops fell on them. "Love, you realize that _nothing _with you is easy, don't you?"

Hermione laughed uneasily. "I suppose it isn't…"

"And you _also _realize that thinking such things as _absolutely _irrational makes you seem, oh, what's the word—"

"Rather daft."

"Well yeah. I never thought you'd be so…insecure about all this—"

"I am _not _insecure!"

He gave her a pointed look. "I _don't _think it'd be easy to, as you so eloquently put it, _sleep with you that other way_. You _know _I'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to." His hands slipped down her arms and took hers. The rain dropped steadily now. Neither seemed to notice they were getting wet. "Now if you wanted to, then that's a different matter…"

She rolled her eyes, then stared at their interlaced hands. "Okay, maybe I am a wee anxious. But all of this is new to me. It doesn't matter that I'm assertive and scary Hermione Granger most of the time. I'm also Hermione who's gotten into this…thing…with her best mate who's a bloke. You're my first boyfriend—"

"Bloody hell, poppet. This has to be a record—you've said three things tonight that make you seem _extremely_ daft. You're acting like a bird in a romance novel. As though you're the helpless damsel-in-distress character that you're not." Ron joked, his grip tightening on her hands. He dipped his face low so it was level with hers.

The rain grew stronger by the second, soaking their hair, clothes, and faces. Ron gave her an Eskimo kiss, nudging her nose with his. Water that clung to their noses flew in all directions. Hermione gazed up at the sky, gave Ron's hands a squeeze, and stretched her arms upward, welcoming the pouring rain. It tumbled down, causing her curls to spring in all directions. She unbuckled her sandals and threw them into the grass. She spun dizzily and leapt into the puddles that gave the largest splash.

Ron watched her, shaking his head with a bemused expression on his face. He stroked his chin for a moment before kicking his shoes and socks into the grass and joining her. He grabbed her hand and they skipped up and down the street, dirty puddle water soaking Ron's pants and the hem of Hermione's dress.

Overhead, the grey clouds loomed. The wind whipped through the trees, blowing the rain horizontally. Thunder rumbled and lightning streaked the sky. Ron and Hermione darted to the grass for their shoes and sprinted into The Burrow. They threw open the door, then shoved it shut with their shoulders because the wind shook it open. Ron locked the door.

They were dripping water everywhere. With each passing second and each slow step they took, long trails of rain followed them. They faced each other. They'd only gotten ten steps further than the front door and into the living room before they realized how much water they'd brought into The Burrow.

"Care for a drying spell?" Hermione reached into—wait, she hadn't brought her wand, had she? "Bah! I don't have my wand."

"I've got this one, love." Ron reached into his back pocket—shite, he hadn't brought his wand to the party, either! "Since our wands are _upstairs_—"

She rolled her eyes, "How convenient."

He shivered suddenly, rubbing his arms. "I'm rather cold…"

"We better get some dry clothes on." She advised, giving him a once-over. "Dry clothes would make you less…cold." She coughed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Seems like you're developing a cough, love. I suppose I'll have to inspect your throat—" He leaned forward, a centimeter separating them. His lips brushed hers, feather light.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She slapped him upside the head. "You're such a git."

Ron blinked with an innocent smile. "I'm only a git when you're around."

"So we've established." She took a step towards him and ran her fingers through the hair that was plastered to his forehead. "We _could _go upstairs and get our wands…"

"But we'd trail even _more _water into The Burrow than necessary. Mum would _hate _that…" He adjusted his voice to two octaves higher and did a frighteningly accurate impression of Mrs. Weasley, "What are you thinking?! Frolicking in the rain and getting it all over the floor and furniture—"

"Fine, fine. But we could also magically dry the mess we made—albeit, not properly, but we could attempt it nevertheless…" She rolled her eyes. After contemplating a moment, she ordered, "Hands up."

He merely said, "As you wish…"

Ron complied and raised his arms over his head. Hermione kept eye contact with him as she grabbed the hem of his jumper and yanked it upwards. He swallowed loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. His eyes grew wide. He ducked so she stripped him completely of the jumper and tossed it aside.

She licked her lips. "Kneel down for me, will you?"

He nodded enthusiastically and knelt before her. She unfastened the top button of his shirt. She worked her way down the row of buttons, concentrating on him, her hands lingering on his chest and abdominal muscles as she did. _It's rather nice to be able to have justification for ogling Ron…_ A small smile stretched across her face. She undid the cuff buttons. When his shirt was unbuttoned, she slipped it off his broad shoulders. He shrugged it off the rest of the way and threw it beside his soaked jumper, which lay crumpled on the rug.

"I'd expect you're a bit colder than before…" Hermione put her hands on his shoulders and massaged. He was level with her chest, which he didn't seem to mind at all.

"Quite the contrary…" Ron told Hermione's chest with a suggestive grin, his gaze flicked up to meet hers. His hands came to her waist and he pulled her closer to him. "_You_, however, _must _be freezing."

She cocked her head to the side as though contemplating it. "Actually, I _am _rather cold." He sat on his feet, his face pressed against her stomach, the material of her dress soaking his cheek.

"May I assist you with your temperature problem?" Ron wiggled his eyebrows.

"Sure." Hermione replied indifferently.

He did a double take. "What?!"

"I'm _wearing _a tank top and shorts underneath my dress, you randy bloke." She shoved him lightly and ran her hands down his muscular arms.

Tentatively, Hermione turned around and lifted her hair from her shoulders to give Ron access to the random button clasp and zipper. Ron swallowed loudly. Suddenly, it seemed, that his hands were too big for him and he fumbled with it. _Breathe, Ron. It's just a zipper! You have zippers on loads of articles of _your_ clothing…but you've never unzipped a _girl's _zipper before! Much less _Hermione's _zipper! _He inhaled and exhaled audibly. Blood was pounding in his ears. He finally undid the tiny button clasp _(Why do they make buttons this small?!)_. He took the zipper between his thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled downward.

Hermione slipped the dress off, kicked it onto the rug, and turned around to face him. She wore a red v-neck tank top and red shorts. Ron gaped at her. He stood up, taking her face in his hands. He ran his thumbs across her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his waist, then trailed her hands up his abs and chest to clasped them behind his neck. They moved closer, her clothes still damp. One of his hands found its way into her wet hair. She wiped excess water off his chest and flicked it at him.

"You're positively naughty, Miss Granger." Ron whispered, his voice lowered an octave and his lips brushed her earlobe. His teeth lightly latched onto her earlobe, causing her to squeak.

"Says the boy who's biting my ear…" Hermione spit raspberries at him childishly. She tried to meet his gaze from the odd angle, since he _was _biting her ear. _Kind of kinky…heh, heh…_ Her lips grazed his cheek. He relinquished his hold on her ear and tilted her chin upwards.

_Meanwhile, at Auror Headquarters_

Harry was severely disturbed.

For the past ten minutes, his best mates went from fully clothed and rain-logged to varying degrees of undress and…Ron was biting Hermione's ear! And Hermione! She acted almost like a dominatrix, ordering Ron to strip. Then they started snogging. It was all too disconcerting. Why did Harry subject himself to such madness?!

"Ginny perhaps?" His reflection talked to him from one of the many charmed mirrors in Moody's office.

"Shut up." Harry told his reflection. "We're just…"

"Mates? Like how Ron and Hermione were _mates_ before they got together?"

"No, it's not like that!"

Then what _is _it like? Enlighten meHis reflection retorted.

"I most _certainly _will _not _enlighten a _mirror_!" Harry snapped indignantly. He glanced at his watch. "I should get back to the twins' flat and give them a play-by-play of what happened."

Harry shuddered and grabbed his blazer. He put it on and buttoned it over his fitting black Sex Pistols t-shirt. "It's been a long night…" He silently Disapparated from Headquarters and Apparated to the twins' loft.

"I'm back!"

No one took notice of him. The party was still going strong. Since it was storming, everyone was advised to stay for the night at the twins' loft. Though most people traveled magically, they didn't want to risk getting splinched in the storm while Disapparating. The Hogwarts crowd and George were seated at a circular table by the dance floor. Dean's eyes were a bit glazed over and he held a shot Firewhiskey in his hand. Twenty empty shot glasses were on the table and George had a determined, yet tipsy demeanor.

"Not another bet…" Harry shook his head as he approached the table and stood behind Ginny.

Ginny turned around and nodded, "Dean bet George that he could out-drink everyone at this table. Neville, Seamus and I refused to participate."

Harry sighed disapprovingly, his hands resting on the back of Ginny's chair. "Didn't Neville and Seamus warn George?! Dean starts hitting on _everyone _when he's sloshed. Blokes, included. When he decided to get pissed on his sixteenth birthday, he tried to snog Colin Creevey!"

Ginny's nose wrinkled in disgust. "You'd think Dean would have better taste than _that_."

"Sorry to interrupt this, mates—" Harry grabbed the Firewhiskey bottle from the center of the table.

"'ey! Hic! Weweren'—hic!—fin'she'—hic!—withthe—hic!—drinkincontes'—" George slurred, swaying in his seat and grabbing at the air in front of him, as though attempting to take the bottle away from Harry.

"I'm back from Headquarters to inform you of _exactly_ what happened between Ron and Hermione." One hand clutched the Firewhiskey bottle and the other moved from the back of Ginny's chair to her shoulder. Not that she noticed or anything.

That got George's attention. Somewhat, at least, considering his current condition.

"Thenshoo' mate—hic!—tellus—hic!—everythin'—" George waved a hand in front of his face.

"Yeah—hic!—Harry, you—hic!—lookrather—hic!—dashing—hic!" Dean leaned across the table towards Harry.

"Why thank you, Dean." Harry gave Ginny's shoulder a squeeze and whispered, "See what I mean?"

Neville and Seamus noticed this.

Seamus spotted Parvati by the refreshments table and called to her, "Parvati! Dean's looking rather smashed…"

Parvati rolled her eyes and approached the group's table. "I'll take him home before he permanently scars anyone for life…" She tugged on Dean's hand, "Let's go home, Dean."

"Parrrvaaatiii…hic!" Dean threw his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly. She stroked his head. "Arewe—hic!—goingto—hic!—yourhouse?"

Parvati blushed slightly under the scrutiny of the rest of the group's shocked stares. "We're next-door-neighbors," She clarified, then turned to Dean, "No, no, silly boy. I'll just Floo with you to make sure you don't get lost or something."

"Okie—hic!" Dean got up and walked, with Parvati guiding him, in a straight line for the door.

"As I was saying," Harry began again, "I saw everything that happened between Ron and Hermione. Little did they know that I not only saw what went on outside and inside The Burrow, but I also saw what happened when Ron was chasing her down the stairs and into the street and such."

"Really…" Seamus raised an eyebrow, "How?"

Harry reached into his blazer and pulled out what looked like an impossibly small silver anorak.

"Heinous…" Neville clucked his tongue.

"It's not _really _an unfashionable anorak, Neville. It's a foldable, travel-size Invisibility Cloak." Harry unzipped the top zipper and pulled it out of its pouch. "Voila! Invisibility Cloak!"

The other four gaped in awe.

"The perks of being an pre-training Auror intern." Ginny replied dryly, then paused. "I thought you Disapparated to Headquarters from here! You can't have done it _that _fast and run back to the street…"

"I didn't. I Disapparated to Headquarters to fetch this, then put it on and Apparated to the street, where I followed Ron and Hermione." Harry explained. The other four nodded, comprehending. "Right. So…I followed them. Apparently, Ron said something to make Hermione angry—a joking comment about her being a vixen/slag—"

At this, Ginny burst out laughing. Seamus and Neville joined in, as did George, since he only vaguely had an idea of what was going on.

"Hard to imagine, I know. But Hermione overanalyzed it and thought Ron really _meant _that she was a vixen/slag and he just wanted to sleep with her or something. Then they were cutesy and danced in the rain and got soaked—"

"Kinky." Seamus interjected.

"—and then it started storming, as it is now. Ron and Hermione went inside. That's when I Apparated to Headquarters again, where all of the surveillance was turned on because I'd set it up the _first _time I was there."

"Question, did you feel like a sick pervert while doing this?" Seamus asked.

"YES." Harry shuddered.

"They're that randy, eh?" Ginny snickered.

"Well…they were dripping water everywhere when they came into The Burrow. Neither of them had wands to cast a drying spell."

"Thasconvenient—hic!" George hiccupped.

"Yeah, I know." Harry rolled his eyes.

"They could've fetched a towel." Neville added.

"Y'know what they say about people in love—or at least, who are deeply infatuated with each other…they throw practicality out of the window so as to make room for excuses to be in compromising positions."

"I've never heard that expression." Seamus said with a rather confused expression on his face.

"Well, that's the gist of it." Ginny shrugged.

"_Anyway_…" Harry continued the retelling of what happened, "So they eventually decided to just stay in the living room, since that tracked in minimal, yet large, amounts of rainwater into The Burrow. Then Hermione ordered Ron to strip—"

Seamus whistled and Neville snickered.

"I'm so proud. I always knew she'd be a dominatrix." Ginny said while stealing glances at Harry.

George, snapping slightly out of his alcohol-induced daze, gave Ginny a Look.

"Not that it's _good _to jump blokes…" Ginny coughed and averted her gaze from Harry's.

"—and she ripped his jumper off, then his shirt. And he nervously took off her dress—"

The other four gasped.

"She was _wearing _a tank top and shorts underneath."

They exhaled collectively.

"And then they proceeded to snog." Harry finished. "Thus, Neville won the bet with his ridiculously accurate prediction. Granted, he couldn't have predicted the weather, but essentially, he won."

George pushed the money, which he had put into a small cauldron, to Neville.

"Brilliant! But what'll I do with all this money?"

"Not lose it, first of all, mate." Seamus patted Neville's shoulder patronizingly.

Neville thought for a moment, "I reckon Gran would like a new hat. One that doesn't have wretched _vultures _on it… But what _else _should I buy?"

"Some more plants and Herbology-related books." Ginny suggested.

"Excellent idea, Ginny." They exchanged smiles. For some unbeknownst reason, this caused Harry's stomach to churn.

_Simultaneously, at The Burrow_

Ron and Hermione stumbled to one of the long couches in the living room, connected by their mouths. Neither had initiated the kiss; it was a mutual action they both took. Their lips slid over each other's. Slowly and gently, at first, Ron's hands around her waist and Hermione's hands in his hair. When they parted for air, Ron sat on the couch and pulled Hermione into his lap. Immediately, his hands went to her face and he kissed her intensely. She responded with equal intensity, leaning her head back and opening her mouth wider, their tongues interweaving. Her arms went around his neck.

Hermione broke the kiss, breathing shallowly, "This position will give me a knot in my neck. Having to lean sideways, since I'm sitting in your lap sideways."

"Then what do you suggest, love?" Ron asked, his breaths ragged.

Hermione responded by swinging a leg around and straddling him. She looked straight into his eyes. "How's this?"

Ron swallowed loudly, meeting her gaze. He tried to ignore the fact that his anatomical part akin to Australia (y'know, the Land Down Under) wasn't doing so well. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, love." He apologized.

She shrugged awkwardly. "It's a natural reaction, I suppose?" She pouted slightly.

"Why _The Pout_?"

"I'd hate to think that my temerity would go to waste and we'd just _sit _here…" Hermione maintained her pout, blinking demurely.

Ron smirked. "In that case…" He leaned forward and took her lower lip that was jutting out between his teeth and bit it. He released it, running his tongue inside it.

After she recovered from her initial shock, Hermione giggled. "You have a biting fetish."

"And you have a jumper fetish." Before she could protest, he said matter-of-factly, "Don't even try to deny it, poppet. I _saw _the expression on your face when you ripped off my jumper."

"_You _must have a dress fetish, then. Seeing as how you fumbled with mine and kept staring."

"Actually, come to think of it, I suppose I have a Hermione fetish." Ron kissed her temple quickly, his hands sliding down from her waist to rest on her butt.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron pulled her closer and kissed her again.

Author's notes: So…what'd you think? 400 reviews is still the magical number for an update. ;-)


	9. Ch 9: How should I feel

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's notes: Thank all you _SO MUCH _for being SO incredibly patient with me! I've been swamped with work, then I took a trip to Washington D.C. and have been desperately trying to make up all of the work I missed, and of course, there are extracurriculars and such that I'm involved in. Your reviews are fantastic and truly inspire me to keep writing. This chapter is fluff-fluff-fluff! I hope it was worth the wait! Please, as always, read and review!

Chapter Nine: How should I feel?

Peaceful.

That was the only adjective that came to Hermione's mind when attempting to describe The Burrow's and her own current state. Never had she been happier being so completely relaxed. She was the type of person who was perpetually at work. Usually, when she wasn't doing something productive like her homework assignments, she would do extra homework, read for pleasure, or practice her guitar. While she couldn't completely accredit her newfound contented calm to Ron, she knew that he was a major factor. She smiled to herself, remembering the whirlwind of events that blew past them the night of the twins' party.

Contrary to what many of the party goers believed—particularly George and the Hogwarts lot—Ron and Hermione were still as innocent coming out of the party as they had been going in. Okay, so they had gotten _slightly _carried away due to the rain and the concept of "We've _finally _gotten together after _years _of being in denial!" And they had acted rather impulsively…but neither regretted it, seeing as how they hadn't _shagged_ or done anything besides snog. Snogged in various degrees of undress, but it _was _just snogging, after all. ::Cough::

As a week and a half passed, they reverted back to their handholding, cuddling, massages, and spooning. Obviously, their actions escalated from the "best mates" way to the "couple" way. At first, both were worried that they wouldn't be able to make the transition from best mates to a couple. They feared that once they were back at The Burrow, everything that had happened would be cast aside in favor of the old, awkward routine. The tired routine they went through whenever _something _happened between them where silence wouldn't be comfortable; it would be tense and conversation would be forced. Fortunately for them, this wasn't the case.

Because there were only two and a half weeks until summer was over, Ron and Hermione made the most of every moment they spent together. Presently, they were walking outside by the lake. The weather was perfect. The sun shone brightly in the endless stretch of cloudless sky. Birds sang. A slight breeze kissed the treetops and ruffled Hermione's wild curls, which she'd tamed somewhat with a detangling spell she picked up from a book somewhere. She spread a blanket on the grass, sat down, and unpacked the basket of food Ron had made. He sat beside her and stretched his legs out in front of him. Both his and her feet were bare. She handed him a chicken sandwich and he nudged her foot with his.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, "Mr. Weasley, are you trying to play _footsie_ with me?"

Ron grinned. She'd gotten the eyebrow raising habit from him and perfected it. "Perhaps…"

She took a bite of her chicken sandwich and rolled her eyes, nudging his foot.

They exchanged contented smiles.

_Flashback_

Hermione nudged Ron's foot with hers. He leered a bit, leaning towards her; unaware that Professor McGonagall was approaching their table at a brisk pace. Her speed was especially fast, considering her age and the fact that she was wearing such uncomfortable-looking boots with spiked heels. The rest of sixth year lot plus Ginny sat at their table, staring blankly at each other. The Head Boy and Head Girl had just finished dancing to the first song played at the Commencement Ball.

Professor McGonagall circled their table, her hands on her hips, and stopped behind Ron. "Weasley!"

"Yes, Professor?" Ron's head snapped up and he averted his gaze from Hermione to McGonagall.

McGonagall loomed over him, her eyes bulging. She hissed, "Set. The. Example. GO DANCE!"

Ron shrank in his chair apprehensively.

"Now." She growled in an uncharacteristically terrifying voice.

"Y-yes Professor!" Ron jumped out of his seat, holding his hands up in surrender.

Ron turned to Hermione again. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. While he was constantly with her, there was something about being with her at the Ball that made him _feel _different. Not a _bad_ different, by any means. His stomach did a couple of flips as their eyes met. _I must be hungry. But my stomach _never _does acrobatics like that when I'm hungry! _Hermione looked gorgeous, which Ron had already told her. It wasn't a _terrible _thing to see her wearing a fantastic dress, rather than the shapeless school robes. Not to say that she looked _dowdy _in school robes. In fact, if anything, she could make those shapeless robes look _good_. But that _still _didn't explain his stomach's acrobatics…

Hermione raised an eyebrow and looked up at Ron expectantly. He didn't know this, but she had been stealing glances at him, too. He looked _very _handsome. She didn't know whether or not she liked him better dressed up or shirtless while practicing Quidditch. _Such hard decisions I'm faced with… _She smirked, caught herself, and scrunched her nose. _But he's just my mate. My best mate! My best mate who's a bloke…and _coincidentally_ attractive! Now that I think about him, I _almost_ like him better fully clothed. Heh, heh… _He stood beside her chair, his hands in his pockets.

"Are you staring at me for a particular reason, Ron?"

Ron rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "Yes." He held out his hand, palm up, to her. "Will you dance with me?"

"Because McGonagall frightened you into it or because you want to?" She asked coyly. _Since when am I _coy_?! I disgust myself._

He shrugged nonchalantly, "A bit of both, I suppose." _Two can play the "I'm so smooth and coquettish" game!_

She imitated his noncommittal shrug, "Alright, then."

It was a chain reaction. Because Ron had the courage to ask Hermione to dance, the other boys suddenly asked their respective dates to join them on the dance floor.

The Postal Service's lead singer Ben Gibbard was center stage. He paused and adjusted the microphone. He said, "This is a song about love. Pure love. The kind of love that makes you want to whisk a girl off her feet so you can be together since she's perfect and you don't want anything to taint her perfection."

As the intro began, Ron and Hermione's fingers interlaced. They led their group of sixth year mates plus Ginny onto the dance floor. More people followed them. Among the followers were faculty members, including Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Ron and Hermione found a place near the stage, away from the rest of their lot for some reason unbeknownst to everyone. In this situation, "everyone" meant the two of them. Their fingers untwined and fell to their sides. Ron's arms slipped around Hermione's waist. Hermione clasped her hands behind Ron's neck. They moved closer together.

The Postal Service sang "Brand New Colony". Ron and Hermione amused themselves by alternating singing each short verse with the band. Offstage, Ron began with Ben Gibbard,

_I'll be the grapes fermented,  
Bottled and served with the table set in my finest suit  
Like a perfect gentlemen _

Currently, Ron was wearing one of his best Muggle outfits. Arguably, he was one of the most dashing blokes at the Ball. Some blokes looked dreadfully awkward when dressed up. Ron didn't. He looked like the perfect gentleman. Asking Hermione to the Ball was one of the more notable "gentlemanly" _things_ Ron had ever done. Though _he_ didn't think that _she_ noticed, Hermione knew that Ron was endearingly, subtly chivalrous. They swayed slowly.

_I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick  
Where you will sit and contemplate your day_

As the years went by, Hermione was Ron's dependable sounding board. Whenever something troubled him, she was there to listen to his issues and dispense advice. Both felt completely comfortable in telling each other everything and nothing at all. However, Ron felt that he often burdened Hermione with his problems. She didn't consider it a burden; she was loved that he chose her to be his confidante. She knew that they had only had each other when Harry was dealing with his own—as well as the entire world's—demons. Harry's unique hero-to-all-wizard-kind status brought Ron and Hermione closer._  
  
_

_I'll be the water wings that save you if you start drowning  
In an open tab when your judgment's on the brink  
  
_

Ron sighed as he sang this. He and Harry taught Hermione how to swim during the summer before their fifth year. He couldn't believe that it was only a year ago. It felt much further in the past than that. Until then, Hermione just waded in the shallowest part of the lake; she only stood where the water lapped over her feet. He and Harry convinced her that swimming was a skill that someone needed to survive dire situations. Thus, they began giving her swimming lessons.

The first time Hermione jumped off of the lakeside and paddled to the deepest, centermost part of the lake, she started to sink. She sank towards the bottom of the lake. Within milliseconds, Ron dove in and propelled himself towards her. He swam to her, putting her arm around his shoulders, and kicked to the surface again. Once they treaded to the shallow end of the lake, Hermione's eyes snapped open. She sputtered and coughed water onto Ron. He carried her quickly to shore as soon as his feet could touch the sandy lake bottom. None of them—not Ron, Hermione, or Harry—ever mentioned it again, but they never forgot, either.

_I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite  
Albums back, as you're lying there drifting off to sleep...  
  
_

Hermione introduced Ron to loads of different kinds of music during their sixth year at Hogwarts. Ron had grown up with only the music of the wizard world. She felt obligated to share her favorites. Aside from the contemporary bands she listened to, she borrowed her mum's antique record player and played The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, The Ramones, Frank Sinatra as well as the rest of the Rat Pack, Marvin Gaye, Janis Joplin, Billie Holiday, The Doors, and loads of others for him.

They would sit in the Common Room and listen to records all day on weekends when everyone would be scattered about the school grounds or at Hogsmeade. Sometimes, Ron would be so tired from Quidditch matches the day before that he would fall asleep on her shoulder. She would usually resign to a nap, as well. There was something incredibly natural about the way they were. When the rest of Ron and Hermione's mates would return from their weekend excursions, no one dared disturb them.

_I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...  
You won't have to strain to look into my eyes  
  
_

While Ron thought that Hermione was conveniently tiny in stature, it was a bit of a disadvantage at times. Typically, she had to crane her neck meet his gaze. He had to look down at her, as well. At the same time, it gave him an excuse to help her constantly. He'd get books off the top shelves in the library that she couldn't reach. Whenever something happened that was a bizarre enough event to gather a crowd, he would carry her with ease to see what was going on. Now as they were dancing, they exchanged smiles, maintaining eye contact. The usually impossible feat that wasn't as hard to accomplish presently; her heels elevated her so that the top of her head was level with his nose.

_I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat  
With the collar up so you won't catch a cold  
  
_

The first day of Christmas break during their fifth year, Ron and Hermione were left alone in Gryffindor Tower. Conveniently, Harry was elsewhere. Looking for a cure for their eventual boredom, Ron and Hermione decided to go for a walk outside. Snow blanketed the castle and every inch of the grounds. On top of a wooly pink jumper—courtesy of Mrs. Weasley—and fitted jeans, Hermione bundled up in her peacoat, a scarf, gloves, boots, and a toboggan hat. Likewise, Ron wore _his _jumper from his mum, fitted black trousers, gloves, a heavy jacket, a scarf, and a hat topped with a pom-pom.

"That hat…" Hermione snickered.

"What's wrong with it?" Ron fiddled with the fringe on his scarf self-consciously.

"Nothing…" She reached up and flicked the pom-pom. "It's…cute."

They walked from the Common Room to the portrait hole and climbed out. As they strolled onto the grounds, Hermione stopped. She turned to Ron and flipped his jacket collar up, as she had. Ron gave her a quizzical look, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.

She shrugged, "Wouldn't want you to catch cold."

Randomly, he offered her his arm. She took it.

_I want to take you far from the cynics in this town  
And kiss you on the mouth  
We'll cut out bodies free from the tethers of this scene,  
Start a brand new colony_

_Where everything will change,  
We'll give ourselves new names (identities erased)  
  
_

_The sun will heat the grounds  
Under our bare feet in this brand new colony_

_This brand new colony_

_Everything will change, ooh ooh..._

_Everything will change, ooh ooh..._

_Everything will change, ooh ooh..._

There were times that Ron wanted to run away from everything, taking Hermione, Harry, and the rest of his family with him. Away from evil, away from obligations, away from stressful schoolwork, away from everything that could potentially cause problems. Hermione felt the same. It would be splendid to leave everything behind in favor of a new life. A life where neither of them were the famous Harry Potter's best mates. A life away from the scars after war and locked-up Death Eaters, who could possibly escape if they gained a following again. A life that was, essentially, existence in a utopia.

As the song neared its end, both ceased singing while reflecting inwardly. Somehow, they had closed the gap between them so that only millimeters separated them. They stopped swaying and stood in each other's arms for a moment. Each passing second seemed like an eternity. Their senses heightened. Suddenly, Hermione was aware of how blue Ron's eyes were, the feel of his hands pressing into the small of her back, his heartbeat quickening from their proximity, and his woodsy scent. Ron was conscious of how Hermione's dark brown eyes penetrated his, the way her fingers traced circles on the nape of his neck, her heartbeat synchronizing with his, and her floral scent. Ron's tongue flicked over his bottom lip.

Hermione gulped.

Roars of approval and applause jerked them out of their reverie and away from each other. The song ended and the faculty and students were applauding The Postal Service—not them! What were they _thinking_? The world wasn't Ron/Hermione-centric!

Though the song was over, its end was the beginning of Ron's realization that he fancied Hermione.

_End flashback_

Ron and Hermione finished eating their picnic lunch. They sat beside each other on the blanket in backyard of The Burrow. After shifting to try resting comfortably in several positions, Hermione decided to lie down, her arms limp by her sides. Ron, who was sitting beside her, wiggled his eyebrows. He turned sideways, reclined, and laid his head directly below her rising and falling chest.

"_Ron!_" She scolded and pushed his head away from the aforementioned area so that his head rested on her stomach.

"_Hermione_…" He almost moaned, his low voice oozing with want. He lightly took her hand in his and brushed his lips on the inside of her wrist, below her palm.

Her breath caught. She took a deep breath and attempted to sarcastically remark, "Funny how you can make even my _name _seem like a sexual innuendo."

He laughed, "_You're_ a sexual innuendo."

She sputtered incredulously, "_I'm _a sexual innuendo?! I beg your pardon!"

"Yes, love, _you yourself _are a sexual innuendo." He replied matter-of-factly.

"How so?" Her brow knitted, perplexed. She met his gaze by leaning back and resting her chin in her palm, which was propped up by her elbow.

He shrugged, "Everything about you suggests _sexiness_."

Hermione burst out laughing.

Ron nodded emphatically, "I kid you not!"

"You—think that _I_—exude…sexiness?!" Her laughter was uncontrollable now. She continued giggling hysterically, tears rolling down her cheeks, her face turning red.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm _serious_." He took her free hand and squeezed it, then brought a finger to her lips to quiet her. She finally did. "The lilt of your voice, the way yours hips sway, how you put on lip gloss painstakingly slowly, the hair toss thing you do when your hair's getting in your way…all of these things are allusions to how incredibly sexy you are."

"Interesting…" She pondered this theory. "In that case, you're not an insinuation. You're a declaration."

"Now _that's _rich." He snorted.

"_Your _resonant tenor voice, the way your hair falls into your bright eyes, how you're completely confident when walking around half-naked, and the way you know exactly what to do to make me forget what the bloody hell I was previously doing." Hermione said, running her fingers through his hair. She sat up, moving his head to her lap.

From the angle he was lying down in, Ron saw Hermione's face upside down. He smirked and tugged on a loose curl. He reached up and cupped her face with both hands. Simultaneously, he slowly sat up as she bent her head down. Their lips met in an inverted kiss. His hands moved from stroking her face to her outrageous mess of hair. Her hands descended upon his broad shoulders and massaged. Their lips slid over each other's, leisurely, teasingly. She sucked on his bottom lip as he did the same to her top lip. Their tongues interweaved. His hands rubbed her back.

"Oy!"

They jerked apart, bewildered. No one was at The Burrow but them! In theory, at least. They leapt up and turned around.

"Thought you two could use some company."

Before them, stood the twins, Ginny, and Harry.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. They waved to their other best mate and the rest of the younger set of Weasleys.

"Welcome home?" Ron swallowed awkwardly.

"Thanks, Ronniekins." George thrust a trunk into Ron's arms, "Take care of this, will you?" George and Fred jogged to the front door and let themselves into the house.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course, George." He _locomotor_-ed the rest of the lot's baggage to follow the twins inside.

Ginny rushed to Hermione and dragged her into the house, most likely to tell her something urgent and of utmost importance. In her world, at least. Harry and Ron shrugged and followed.

Ron muttered, "The last weeks of summer have never been this interesting…"

Author's notes: So? How was it? Please read and review!


	10. Ch 10: When everything is you

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's rambling: My deepest apologies for not updating sooner! Gods, it's been over a month! I'm a horrid person. BUT, to make up for it, this chapter is rather long! Hopefully that's a good thing. School and exams approaching forced me to put fic near the bottom of my priority list. And, like I said, for that, I apologize. Thank _all _of you SO much for not giving up in this fic. (You haven't, have you?! Please say you haven't!) However, because exams are approaching, that also means that I'll have more time of reviewing and less of actual homework, which also means more updates! Yay! I plan on having three or so chapters before Christmas. I desperately want to write a Christmas chapter, thus this fic will start speeding up, time-wise and moving to the school year. This chapter has its share of silly misunderstandings.

Dedications: To each and every reader who has read and/or reviewed my fic. Thank you for not giving up. (At least, I hope you haven't.) I dedicate this especially to Gaby, Bekah, Gabis and Jackie who helped me get this chapter off the ground.

Last thing: Review, as always! Your feedback helps me write and shape my plot a bit. Thank you so much! Enjoy!

Chapter Ten: When everything is you

Harry fell in step with his best mate. The two stopped walking to give each other a hetero-bloke hug.

Ron began as they continued walking, "Glad you could finally come—" He did a double take, "Wait…aren't you _still _supposed to be interning with Mad Eye?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, "Maybe I am."

Ron's jaw dropped, "You're skiving off pre-Auror training?!"

Harry chuckled at Ron's look of disbelief, "What if being _here _is part of my pre-Auror training?"

The redhead raised his eyebrows as they entered the house. "How is _that _possible?"

"_That_ is classified information." The black-haired boy replied with a cryptic smile.

Ron rolled his eyes and punched Harry's arm, "Even from _me_? The bloke who's been your mate since the first day at Hogwarts on the train?!"

Harry sighed and cleared his throat as they entered The Burrow. Randomly, he said, "Y'know, Ron, other than Hogwarts, I consider The Burrow as my home…"

The redhead nodded with a quizzical expression on his face, "'s always been that way, mate."

They ascended the stairs and went into Ron's room. Ron sat atop his desk and Harry took a seat on the floor.

"Anyway, er, thing is…is that…uh, I don't know how to tell you this…" Harry suddenly became very occupied with untying and retying the shoelaces on his off-brand sneakers.

Ron squinted, still puzzled, trying to make sense of Harry's nervous behavior.

-O-

Hastily, Hermione followed Ginny upstairs to Ginny's room, which Hermione had occupied for the entire summer.

Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You've cleaned my room."

"Sorry," Hermione apologized, "I thought I'd take the liberty of tidying up a bit, since I've been using it for almost two months—"

Ginny smiled approvingly, "Mum would be pleased. My room hasn't been this clean since—well, ever."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat in Ginny's chair beside her desk. Ginny flopped onto her bed.

"I _vaguely_ recall you having to tell me something…something of _utmost importance_, if I'm not mistaken." Hermione repeated Ginny's words drolly, then snickered, "It's about Harry, isn't it?"

Ginny blushed and bit her bottom lip. She squeaked an almost inaudible, "Yes."

Hermione's brown eyes widened, "What happened?!" She threw a pillow at the youngest Weasley's head.

Ginny caught the pillow and buried her crimson face in it. "Well, it started last night."

The brunette raised her eyebrows, "_Really_… What happened last _night_?"

The redhead scoffed, "Miss Granger, unlike you, _I _am not cheap!"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Weasley! _I'm _not cheap." She rolled her eyes, "Your brother is."

Ginny shuddered, "Information that I'd rather have gone my whole life not knowing."

"Go on with your story."

"Right. Harry's been visiting Fred and George's flat ever since their party."

"What about his pre-Auror training work?"

"Well, he stops by after work since he Apparates everywhere now. Takes but a second to get from headquarters to their flat."

"Or so he says." The brunette rolled her eyes.

"Normally, he, twins, and I will have a nice chat while listening to music or playing Exploding Snaps. Actually, it's more like George, Harry, and I since Angelina and Fred are constantly sneaking away to Fred's room—"

"How long have they been together?" Hermione interrupted.

"Oh, for…about a year, I think. Probably more. Y'know, they're like you and Ron—they liked each other for years without either being aware of it." Ginny exchanged smiles with Hermione, then went on, "But _anyway_… Last night, Fred and George had some party to attend, so I was the only one who was at their flat."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Opportunely."

"I suppose." Ginny shrugged.

_Flashback_

Ginny sighed. It wasn't fair. Fred and George had all the fun. Once again, they had to attend yet another "business function". A "business function" was a party where prospective investors dressed formally, had a classy jazz band play, hired caterers to serve dainty foods and loads of alcohol. "Business functions" were an excuse for adults to get incredibly pissed in the name of entrepreneurship. Particularly in the entrepreneurship of young geniuses like the Weasley twins who were the most talked about under-twenty-five blokes in the joke shop business.

Fred always brought Angelina as his date and George would bring his flavor of the week "girlfriend". George's "girlfriends" were typically models whose names resembled food—hideous names with "creative" spellings like Kanndii or Muffie. Ginny didn't know why George settled for birds like that. She didn't know why he and Alicia Spinnet hadn't gotten together; they'd been "best mates" for years in the way Ron and Hermione (as well as Fred and Angelina) had been prior to their getting together.

Thus, Ginny was alone. She sat on a couch in the twins' living room, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. Not finding any interesting articles, she got up and walked over to the twins' cabinet full of old records. They'd acquired the records and record player from a random thrift store in London. She thumbed through their extensive collection and decided on a record by The Doors. She blew dust off the record, put it on, and turned the volume up so that Jim Morrison's voice reverberated off the walls of the twins' flat. Ginny took her seat on the couch again and concentrated on her magazine. A slight breeze brushed a few loose strands of hair from her neck. _Did I leave the window open again?_

"Hello Ginevra…"

"AHHH!" Ginny screamed, threw her magazine in the air, leapt off the couch and clutched her heart. "Harry! What the bloody hell are you doing?! You prat! Where d'ya come off trying to frighten the daylights out of me?!"

Harry snickered from his spot on the couch, which was adjacent to hers, "I didn't _mean _to! I've been silently Apparating everywhere this summer. Even here, to the twins' flat. Thought you'd be happy to see m—er, to have company."

The youngest Weasley put her hands on her hips, "You thought I'd be thrilled to hear the deep voice of a bloke greeting me by my real name?! Good call, Potter."

Harry stood and stepped towards her, "Sorry, Gin. I had this mad idea that you _might've _been expecting me."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, not _you _particularly, but you and Fred and George, y'know since all of you live here—well, not you all year, but you've been living here since summer started and—"

It was the redhead's turn to snicker. "Harry, you're rambling."

The black-haired boy took hold of her elbows. His hands slipped down to her waist. "At any rate—terribly sorry for frightening you, and since you clearly don't want company, I'll leave you and Jim by yourselves…" He gave her a quick squeeze around the waist and was poised to Disapparate (with a rather sour look on his face), when she coughed.

Ginny cleared her throat, "I never said I didn't _want _company. I merely stated that you frightened me."

Harry's expression brightened. "Right. In that case, d'ya mind? After all, 'tis a bit boring without the twins."

They took their respective seats on the couch.

Harry serenaded Ginny, attempting to seductively stare at her, "Come on baby, light my fire…"

He wiggled his eyebrows, causing her to laugh uncontrollably. "I don't think I'll acquiesce to that request, Harry."

"So you think my voice is deep?" Harry asked archly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It's not as though it's like _mine_, thank Merlin."

"But you agree that my voice is deep."

"Yes…as opposed to squeaky…" She narrowed her eyes at him. She noticed he was wearing a black Beatles shirt, jeans, and those rather random off-brand sneakers he always wore. His legs were stretched out, his feet on the coffee table in front of them. _The shirt's rather nice. Good band (one of my favorites), good fit—no! He's my mate. So what if his shirt is two sizes too small for his buff frame… Cough._

"I seem to recall a conversation you and Hermione had at the Commencement Ball…" He stroked his chin pensively. He loved her hair up in a ponytail; her hair wasn't blocking her face. She was wearing a green tank top and shorts. Her feet were bare and tucked underneath her.

"Which one?" _The Commencement Ball was a blur…dinner and chatting with everyone, dancing to The Postal Service with him…_

"The one where you were discussing singers' voices. _You _said that even a…not-so-handsome bloke like Barry White had the potential to be sexy solely because his voice is incredibly deep."

"Yours isn't exactly of Barry White caliber, Harry…"

"But d'ya reckon that I'm sexy?"

Ginny gaped at him. "I can't believe we're even having this conversation…ridiculous…"

"You're not answering the question, Gin."

She rolled her eyes. "It's my turn to ask questions. Do you have hordes of girls following you around at school?"

"Well, now that I think about it, I suppose?"

"Do you have a muscular—but not unnaturally so—build? And bright green eyes?"

Harry grinned triumphantly, "You think I have a nice build! And eyes!"

She ignored the comment and went on, "Have you recently seen yourself on the cover of Witch Weekly as one of the magical world's most eligible bachelors under twenty-one? With—and I quote—'hair that gives him a look of being perpetually shagged'." She held up the magazine she'd been reading.

"So you _do _think I'm sexy. And have shag-hair."

"Yes, Harry. I reckon you're rather handsome and, perhaps, a _wee _bit sexy. Not 'shag-hair', since that'd be like saying you've got a mullet." She sniggered. "But if you _knew _that I thought so, why'd you ask about your voice?"

"To see if that was what made you think so or if you thought so because I'm just as I am."

Ginny snorted, then feigned seriousness, "D'ya reckon I'm sexy?"

"Gin, do you even have to ask?"

"I mean, is it just because I've got a femininely high voice or—"

He shoved her playfully, "You're mocking me."

"Me? Mock _you_? Never!" She shrugged, "Okay, maybe a bit. Now, since you thoroughly enjoyed my detailing why you're a sexy prat, why don't you return the favor to me?"

"Sure." He mirrored her shrug. "I noticed that while we're playing Quidditch—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the secret to getting Harry Potter's attention is through Quidditch!"

"—you're a lithe thing on your broom—"

"You think I'm sexy because I can handle a broom?"

They both blushed at the unintentional double entendre.

"Er…ahem, uh…you've got a girly figure with slight curves but you're toned because of, er, Quidditch. You're the resident heartbreaker of blokes in all houses. All you've got to do is jokingly bat your eyes at me and I do anything you ask. And you've got a porcelain complexion—a good blush-detector."

"You enjoy making me blush?!" Ginny asked, almost indignantly.

Harry raised his eyebrows mysteriously and leaned mere millimeters away from her. "Maybe."

Ginny blushed.

He smiled, "See? You look positively lovely."

After a few moments passed, Harry whispered, "Gin."

"Yeah?" She whispered back.

"Let's say—"

"First, why are we whispering?"

"It gives what I have to ask you more importance." _Or it's an excuse to get close to you. _

"Go on, then."

"Right. Let's say you want to tell someone something. But you don't know how they'll take it. What would _you _do?" Harry looked at her pointedly. _Like tell a girl you like her. Particularly, one who has six—well, five brothers who could beat you to a pulp. _

Ginny's head snapped up and she stared straight at him. "Tell them. Definitely tell them." _Or her._

Harry paused and coughed, "'Cause Moody—" _Chicken. You bloody chicken! _

"Mad Eye?" Ginny half-sighed. _How could I think he was going to ask me…something…else… Bah. He's seventeen and I'm fifteen, it's not as though I wanted a marriage proposal! Maybe a date—no, er, of _course _he was going to ask about how to tell Moody something. _

"Yeah, he always sings 'The Yellow Submarine' extremely off-key and never remembers all of the lyrics—"

"An incredible offense." Ginny interjected.

"I agree. So I should tell him?" Harry half-smiled almost apologetically at her.

"Yeah. Tell him." Ginny shook her head exasperatedly and went back to reading that Witch Weekly rubbish.

_End flashback_

Shouts came from downstairs. The girls poked their heads out of Ginny's bedroom to find the twins laughing.

"Oy, children! You whole lot!" George called up the stairs.

Hermione turned to Ginny, "You _do _need to tell me the Harry story after this."

"I shall." Ginny nodded. _It's still vividly playing and replaying through my head, after all._

The blokes poked their heads out of Ron's bedroom. "What is it, George?" Ron yelled agitatedly.

"Post is here! Hogwarts letters are with it!" George shouted back.

Hermione flew down the stairs.

Ron turned to Harry and said, "We'll continue this chat later?"

Harry nodded emphatically and smiled weakly. He, Ron, and Ginny exchanged glances and descended the stairs.

Harry whispered to the youngest Weasleys before they reached the twins and Hermione who were standing in the kitchen, "As though she had any doubt she'd get Head Girl. If Dumbledore made anyone else Head Girl, Hermione would have a nervous breakdown!"

"As soon as she'd regain her composure, she'd hex the girl." Ginny added with a smirk.

Beside the stove, Hermione furiously tore at the seal. "Blah, blah, the usual rubbish…" She muttered and skimmed down the letter. She found nothing out of the ordinary. Her mouth was slightly agape contributing to her expression of utter confusion.

Ron approached her cautiously and slipped an arm around her waist. He squeezed her side playfully, "What's wrong, love?" _Dumbledore can't _possibly _be mad enough to make someone else Head Girl…_

Harry and Ginny winced simultaneously, expecting the worst—a Hermione meltdown, complete with human waterworks, loud nose blowing, and hiccupping incoherent sentences.

"Oh, um, nothing. Nothing a'tall." Hermione forced a smile. Her doe-like brown eyes began to water. She blinked quickly and focused on her bare feet. _It's not the end of the world! Think happy thoughts. Ron and I are together, 'tis still summer, and I'm going to be a seventh year! _

"Lemme see…" Before she could reply, Ron took the standard Hogwarts letter from her loose grip. "Aha!" He pried another piece of parchment that was stuck behind the supplies list. "Miss Hermione Granger, I would personally—"

Hermione's curly head snapped up. She snatched the attachment from Ron and read aloud, "_Miss Hermione Granger, _

_I would personally like to congratulate you on obtaining the position of Head Girl at Hogwarts this year. As though it wasn't obvious you were a shoo-in for the job! Honestly. You are the witch with the highest marks in your year, as well as the entire school! You are, perhaps, the smartest witch that has ever graced Hogwarts' classrooms and corridors on night patrols. _

_Enjoy the remainder of your holiday. _

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. Say hello to Misters Weasley (Ron, Fred, and George), Mr. Potter, and Miss Weasley for me, will you?_"

"One." Ginny began counting with a blasé look on her face, "Two, thr—"

"I got Head Girl!" Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around Ron's neck and bouncing up and down. He wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around.

The twins snorted. Fred slipped each boy's Hogwarts letter in his respective back pocket and left Ginny's on the kitchen table.

Fred said drolly, "Had you worried for a minute there, eh, Hermione?"

"Oh, bugger off, Fred!" Hermione snapped, then turned to Ron.

"Did Hermione just tell me to bugger off?! I'm positively shocked! Our ickle Ronniekins is rubbing off on her…" Fred teased.

"In more ways than one." George added.

Hermione appeared deaf to the twins' teasing. She preoccupied herself by rewarding Ron with a lingering kiss. "Thank you for detaching the pieces of parchment for me, darling."

Ron grinned, "Couldn't have you being distressed, now could I, love?" He gave her a slightly longer kiss and his grin grew wider, "Head Girl."

Ginny batted her eyelashes at Harry and feigned swooning, "Oh, Harry! Sweet pea! You're my hero! You pried a piece of parchment from the back of my standard Hogwarts letter!"

Harry puffed up his chest exaggeratedly and struck a pose with his fists on his hips, "All in a day's work, Gin! Honeybunch!"

Ginny threw her arms around Harry's neck.

He literally swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms. She giggled. Harry stared straight into her hazel eyes and faked valiance, "What say you, honeybunch? Shall we ride off into the sunset on my Firebolt?"

"Oh Harry! You're so romantic!" Ginny pantomimed fainting and inadvertently nuzzled Harry's neck. Both giggled nervously.

Ron huffed and stopped spinning with Hermione, "We're _nothing _like that!"

Hermione frowned and turned away from Ron to face Ginny and Harry. She leaned backward, against him, and rested the back of her head in the crook of his shoulder. "Oh, honestly! I'm not a swooning damsel in distress!"

"And _I'm_ not a pseudo-knight!" Ron tightened his hold on Hermione's waist. She rested her arms over his.

"Your roles are reversed, then? Ron's the damsel and Hermione's the knight?" Fred asked jokingly. Hermione glared at him, so he suggested, "How's about a celebration? Dinner in London tonight?"

"And tomorrow, Fred and I shall chaperone you lot to buy school supplies." George raised an eyebrow at Harry and Ginny who were still giggling. "I reckon you should put our baby sister down, mate."

"Oh, er, right." Harry obliged.

"I'm not a _baby_, George." Ginny pouted.

"Which is why you're pouting like one." Fred quipped. "Anyway, all of you—go upstairs and change. In an hour, we'll meet you down here so we can take the _new _car that Dad got from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department before he became surrogate Minister of Magic."

"Who's driving?" Hermione asked.

"I reckon you are, Hermione," Ginny replied. "You're the only one who can drive legally."

"Oh." Hermione shrugged and turned to exit the kitchen. "Wait! The rest of you didn't open your letters! Harry, Ron, what if one of you got Head Boy?"

"Doubt it." Harry rolled his eyes, "Bet Draco got Head Boy. His marks are exponentially higher than ours."

"Speak for yourself, mate." Ron joked.

"C'mon, Hermione. Let's see what I can do with that hair of yours—" Ginny grabbed her letter off the table and tugged on Hermione's arm.

"Leave Hermione's hair alone!" Ron called to their retreating backs as the girls scurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

As though in a trance, Harry followed them. Ron threw his arms up exasperatedly and ascended the stairs, as well. Fred and George were the only ones left in the kitchen.

"Glad we're out of that awkward adolescent-love stage, eh, Twin?" Fred asked.

"I agree." George nodded, "If only Harry and Gin would get together…"

"Kind of like how you and Alicia should." Fred mumbled.

"Didn't catch that." George narrowed his eyes and cracked his knuckles loudly.

Fred laughed nervously, "Heh, heh. I'm off to Angelina's! Be back in an hour!"

With that, Fred Disapparated.

_Upstairs, in Ginny's room…_

Ginny shut the door behind her as she and Hermione reentered her room. The door swung open an inch.

"What I was going to tell you about earlier was—" Ginny began.

"Wait! Can you hear that?" Hermione cupped her hand around her ear.

"Hear what, Hermione? Are you going mad?" Ginny's eyes widened apprehensively and she began inching backward towards the door.

"Listen, Gin. I can hear Ron and Harry—only, it's coming from the floor…" Hermione got on her knees and crawled towards the sound.

Ginny rolled her eyes and knelt down on the floor beside Hermione.

"Aha!" Hermione cried triumphantly. Her mouth dropped open in horror, "Extendable Ears! What…what's it for?"

Ginny feigned innocence, "Oh, dunno." She shrugged, "Who can we hear, anyway?"

Hermione held one up to her own ear, "Ooh! It's Ron and Harry!"

"Give me one!" Ginny demanded.

_Meanwhile, in Ron's room…_

Harry paced back and forth in front of Ron's desk, wringing his hands, as Ron watched from a cross-legged position on his bed. The door was slightly ajar.

"Like I was saying earlier…" Harry didn't meet Ron's gaze, which followed him as he walked from one end of the room to the other, and back again.

"You seemed to be saying a load of _nothing _earlier, actually." Ron rolled his eyes, "And now you're just pacing."

The black-haired boy tossed Ron a look of desperation. "I'm nervous! I—I want to tell you…but I don't know how you're going to take it."

"O…kay…" The redhead nodded slowly, still perplexed.

"I have to get it off my chest; it's been bugging me for quite sometime—"

"Then get the bloody hell on with it and stop stalling!" Ron roared impatiently.

"Alright! Alright!" Harry held his hands up in surrender. He sighed, "It's just—I don't know how to tell you this. This thing, it'll greatly alter our friendship."

_Once again in Ginny's room…_

Ginny and Hermione held their breath. They pressed the Enhanced Hearing Extendable Ears onto their own ears tightly.

Harry finally said, "It's—crackle—you—crackle—I'm in love with."

"WHAT?!" Ginny and Hermione shrieked.

Hermione dropped her Extendable Ear in shock. Even if the Extendable Ears crackled, it was quite clear that Harry was in love with Ron. Her boyfriend and their best mate Ron! Ginny's _brother _Ron! How could this have happened? How did she miss_ that_?

Ginny gaped, Extendable Ear still dangling between her fingers. Furious, she threw down the Extendable Ear, crossing her arms across her chest. How could this have happened? All the rot about her being sexy and blatant flirting! She paused and thought a moment. His words echoed in her mind. _Let's say you want to tell someone something. But you don't know how they'll take it. What would you do?_ He hadn't meant her at all! He meant _Ron. _Inhaling deeply and squeezing her eyes tightly to calm herself down, she plastered a smile on her face and marched to Ron's room.

Hermione paused. "Why were there Extendable Ears on the floor, anyway?" Her brow furrowed, "Was Ron _spying _on me?!" _Like you were spying on him? _"Or was it part of some elaborate plan…or a bet?!" Equally furious now, she stomped into Ron's room after Ginny.

_What really happened…_

Harry finally said, "It's that, you know, it's—Ginny, I'm in love with."

Ron's mouth dropped open. He beamed, "That's great, mate!"

Ginny appeared at the door. "RON! What the bloody hell are you _doing_?! You have a _girlfriend_—"

"Who is quite angry with you!" Hermione huffed with a stony glare.

Ginny glanced at Hermione. They nodded and closed the space between them and the blokes. Ginny stood across from Harry. Hermione faced Ron.

"Harry, I don't know where you come off trying to play with my emotions—" Ginny's voice wavered.

"Gin, I have to tell you something—" Harry grabbed for her hands, which she snatched out of his reach.

Ginny shook her head. "I know, Harry."

"You do?" He squeaked. "What do you think?"

"I think it's horrible!" She exclaimed. "How could you lead me on—"

"What're you talking about, Gin?" Ron interrupted.

"Harry's gay! And in love with you!" Ginny and Hermione shrieked simultaneously.

"Harry's gay?!" Harry and Ron yelled and exchanging bewildered glances.

"You see! You both admitted it!" Ginny's eyes brimmed with tears, "I'm off."

Ginny ran into her room, grabbed her broom, and flew out of her window.

"Look what you two did!" Hermione scolded. "Actually, I don't blame you, Harry. Ron's quite dashing—"

"_Hermione_…" Harry moaned miserably, "I'm not in love with Ron! I'm in love with Ginny!"

"It's alright, Harry—" She paused. "What?!"

"I said…I said that I'm in love with Ginny." He did a double-take, "How did you two hear Ron and my conversation, anyway?!"

"_That_—" She poked Ron in the chest with a vindictive stare, "—is what I'm angry about. Ron, how could you set up Extendable Ears—"

"Enhanced Hearing Extendable Ears." Harry corrected her.

"Right, Enhanced—" Hermione stopped again to transfer her glare to Harry. "How did _you _know about the—"

"_I _didn't set up _anything_, love!" Ron held his hands up. "Honestly, accusing me of—what were you accusing me of?"

She ignored him, "Harry, how did _you _know what kind of Ears they were?!"

"I set them up."

"You what?!" Hermione gasped.

"Part of pre-Auror training, y'know, to protect the surrogate Minister of Magic's home and such." Harry stated matter-of-factly.

Hermione groaned, "Ron, do you expect me to believe that you weren't any part of this and it _wasn't _part of some elaborate bet—"

"Actually, there was a bet—" Harry began.

With that, Hermione rushed down the stairs and ran out the door. Merlin knows she was shite with brooms.

"Look what you did, Harry!" Ron cried and shoved Harry. "Now, because of _your _stupid Ears, _neither _of us has a girlfriend!"

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but found Ron's shaking fist in front of his face. Wisely, he chose to shut it.


	11. Ch 11: Is it in your kiss

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's ramblings: What?! Another chapter?! In SIX DAYS! The apocalypse must be occurring within hours! Actually, I had some time on my hands and decided to update this fic. While I still lovelovelove reviews, I realize how many people read this story and want to know what happens—and don't want to wait five weeks before I update again. Thus, I shall be updating three more times. I'll let six or less days pass between each update, and then I'll post the Christmas chapter on Christmas (hopefully). This chapter's shorter than the last, but the last one was quite long. As always, please read and review!

Answers to questions: As always, there's quite a lot of fluff that occurs in this chapter. I appreciated all the feedback from the last chapter! I'm glad it was funny. It was meant to be outrageous and unrealistic for all intents and purposes of the storyline. I mean, _really_, would J.K. Rowling ever put something like this as a subplot in one of her fics? I think not! Someone asked about the word "confuddled"—hehe, a friend and I made it up one day when we were quite delirious. Besides, Ron mispronounces words at times, so it could possibly be in context? Ah yes, Ron and Hermione wearing Muggle shoes. The portrayal I did of Hermione's parents make them seem rather…crazy, no? I figure they're crazy enough to buy her Muggle Chuck Taylor shoes and Ron probably got his as hand-me-downs from one of his brothers or even his dad when the originals were out.

Again—Thank you so much for keeping up with this story, reading, and reviewing! Reviews make my day.

Chapter Eleven: Is it in your kiss?

Oh, the woes of being young and in love.

The two jilted blokes were still stationary, glued to their spots in Ron's room. Ron looked quite morose, while Harry tried being optimistic. After years of enduring pain and torture that Voldemort inflicted upon him, he always tried to put things into perspective. Okay, that's a lie. Fifth year, he had loads to deal with—but now, while the girl of his dreams thought him to be homosexual, he attempted to find _something_ positive in the whole situation.

Ron shook his head, still trying to contemplate what just happened. He wrung his hands. A vein in his jaw popped out and twitched.

"Honestly, Ron! I was going to tell her the whole story! But, being irrational, paranoid Hermione, she jumped to conclusions!" Harry cried.

Ron glared at him and started rambling furiously, "She may be irrational and paranoid, but she's my girlfriend and I fancy her loads—"

Harry snorted derisively, "I think I liked both of you better when you were in complete denial."

"—and now she's angry with me! She thinks I made a bet about…whatever the bloody hell she can come up with! All because of YOU! You and your—your—your inanity!" Ron jabbed Harry in the chest with a finger, oddly mimicking the gesture Hermione did to him minutes before.

Harry took a few steps backwards, running his hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Good word."

Ron groaned and began to pace with his face in his hands, "Things were going so well! We're going back for fall term in a couple of weeks and I wanted to spend the remainder of the summer enjoying Hermione's company! When you, the twins, and Gin came, I figured it'd be one hell of a party! But no…instead, you have to be the daft git you are and mess everything up! Rather than telling Ginny herself, you had to tell me first—a nice gesture, had you not _set up bloody magical surveillance devices in The Burrow!!_"

If there was anything Harry hated, it was being the scapegoat. He wasn't a daft git! _He'd_ been the one in all of their adventures and misadventures who had come through and saved everyone. Not only that, but he had finally come to the realization that in her fury, Ginny could spread rumors about him once they returned to Hogwarts for the next term. She could even do so prior to arriving at Platform 9 ¾ if she so wished! However, knowing her, she would probably be too embarrassed to share her supposed revelation about him. The fact that she would never fancy him—or that he would have to go to extreme lengths to convince her that he fancied her and not blokes, rather depressed him.

Decidedly miserable, Harry began to play devil's advocate, "What kind of girlfriend _is_ Hermione, anyway?"

The redhead boy replied hotly, "A bloody good one."

The black haired boy raised his eyebrows skeptically, "Really. Then why did she leap at the chance to blame you—no, _accuse _you of spying on her (probably while she was starkers) or making a bet? She _probably _thought you made a bet with the twins and me on if you could get her to shag you or not—"

Fiercely, Ron seized Harry by the shirt collar, lifted him off the ground and shook him, "_Don't _talk about her like that!"

"Like what?" Harry wheezed because Ron was cutting off air to his lungs by almost strangling him, "Like she doesn't trust you?"

Shocked, Ron abruptly dropped Harry, who landed hard on his bum. Harry got up and rubbed his backside.

An obviously pained expression crossed Ron's face before he got defensive, "She trusts me!"

"Then why does she jump to conclusions to make you seem incredibly flawed?" Harry countered.

Ron admitted, "It's not as though I have a good record with her. I've done some rather daft things—"

Harry interrupted, "But lately. How have you been lately?" Harry paused dramatically, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I know how completely smitten you are. You try quite hard _not _to irritate her. And especially infuriate her! In fact, I would go as far to say that you've done everything in her power to be the best first boyfriend she ever had." Reading Ron's worried expression, he added, "I reckon you want to be the last one, as well. Marry her, have millions of Weasley babies with ginger, bushy hair. They'll grow up to be at the top of their class, have a great sense of humor, and be fiercely loyal—"

Ron shoved him angrily, "But none of it's going to happen, considering Hermione's not even speaking to me!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "You two always get into rows. She'll get over it." He sighed, "At least she doesn't think you're a poof."

Ron snickered, "I can't believe Ginny! I reckon _she's _dafter than me." He paused, "I'm supposed to be furious with you. You arsehole." His voice was serious, but his mouth twitched into a brief smile.

Harry gave his best mate an apologetic look, "Ron, I'm sorry for causing this horrible fiasco. I desperately want to fix things with Ginny—"

"Good luck with that." Ron muttered, furrowing his brow.

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "—and you _almost_ as desperately want to fix things with Hermione."

"You're bloody right I do."

George ambled into the room. Seeing the boys' sullen expressions, he asked, "Who flew into Hedwig?"

"What?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry, wrong question—how much did the Cannons lose by?" George turned his youngest brother, "Buck up, mate. There's always next year."

Ron huffed, "We're not drowning in despair—"

"Bit dramatic, are we?"

"—because of pets dying or Quidditch teams losing. Hermione and I are having a row…" He sighed. He tried to stifle a laugh when he continued, "…and—and—"

"And…what…?" George looked at Harry, waiting for him to confess.

Harry mumbled incoherently while staring at his shoes, "GinnythinksI'mgay."

"What? Could you repeat that?" George smirked.

Harry cleared his throat and enunciated, "Ginny thinks I'm gay."

George and Ron exchanged glances before bursting out laughing.

"Glad you prats think this is so amusing." Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a moody look.

"It's just that—" George managed to say between laughs, "—you! A poof?! How the bloody hell did she think of _that_?!"

Ron and Harry explained the Enhanced Hearing Extendable Ears' slight malfunction and the subsequent misunderstanding of the conversation, which resulted in both girls' flight (literal and figurative) from The Burrow.

"And I thought we were going to celebrate Hermione's achievement—albeit, the most predictable one ever—of getting Head Girl by having dinner in London. Silly me to think you stupid gits—"

Ron cleared his throat.

"—but mainly, the daft sod who's not of blood relation to me, wouldn't somehow screw it up. It amazes me, Harry. You can catch a Snitch without your glasses in a rainstorm, save the magical and Muggle world, defeat Voldemort…and yet you're complete shite with girls." George shook his head disappointedly, then arched an eyebrow, "The question is, what are you two going to do about it?"

"Win Ginny back!" Harry proclaimed.

"You never had her to begin with, mate." Ron sympathetically clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, "_My _course of action is to persuade Hermione into forgiving me with my astounding wit and irresistible charm."

Harry coughed.

"Which translates into grovel on my knees for forgiveness and explain Harry's idiocy." Ron admitted humbly.

"Right then." The present twin nodded. "What're you waiting for?!" George demanded.

"Well, er…thing is…" Ron scratched the back of his leg with one of his feet.

"We don't know where they are." Harry gave George a sheepish grin.

"Did they take any money with them? Any clothes or the sort?" George asked.

"No, they just took off. Ginny on her broom, and Hermione on her feet." Ron replied.

"There's only one place they can stay without rent and have access to clothes and the like. I reckon that both of them are there now." George stroked his chin pensively.

"The Half-Bachelor Flat." The three blokes said simultaneously.

Exchanging purposeful looks, they marched out the door. George and Harry would've Apparated, but they didn't want to leave Ron by himself.

_Meanwhile, at the twins' flat_

Violently, Ginny slammed the windowpane behind her as she hovered on her broom in the living room. She dismounted her broom and sighed, adrenaline pumping. She roared, resembling a lion. Or a pirate, "ARRRRRRRR!"

"I know how you feel, Gin."

"EEEK!" Ginny shrieked and found Hermione sitting in a squashy chair in the twins' living room, reading the new edition of _Hogwarts: A History _for the fiftieth time. "_Why _must _everyone_ scare me like that?!"

Hermione gave her a nonchalant shrug, "I figured you knew that I'd be here, as well."

"Why are _you_ frustrated? You weren't in love with The Boy Who Lived for years, only to find that he's into blokes!" Ginny shook her head, frustrated. "There had been so many warning signs—"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Ginny. _You're _the one who doesn't have a reason to be frustrated. Harry's not into blokes. Besides, what warning signs are you _talking _about?"

Ginny's head snapped up, "What? Where'd you get that?"

"He told me." Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

"Really. Then why did Harry tell my brother that he was in love with him? I reckon that's a big enough sign as it is." Ginny's voice was laced with disdain.

"The Enhanced Hearing Extendable Ears malfunctioned, Gin. Y'know the crackling we heard? It blocked out part of what Harry was saying."

Ginny nodded slowly, "I see…so if that's his alibi, then what _did _he say?"

"What Harry _really _said was, 'It's that, you know, it's—Ginny, I'm in love with', which came out as, 'It's—crackle—you—crackle—I'm in love with'. He fancies _you_, you twit! _Not _Ron." Hermione stated with a tone of finality, in her insufferable know-it-all manner.

Ginny frowned, "That's a completely illogical explanation."

"How so?" Hermione asked, feigning true curiosity. "The boy _told _me himself!"

_Prior to this explanation…_

For the past hour and a half, Harry and George had been teaching Ron to Apparate and Disapparate. He was a surprisingly fast learner. Afterwards, Harry taught both Weasley boys how to Apparate and Disapparate silently. Once the brothers mastered the Auror-patented techniques, all three blokes decided to test out their skills. Cloaking themselves in the compact Invisibility Cloaks disguised as anoraks that Harry had in his possession, they Disapparated.

Upon arrival at the Half-Bachelor Flat, the three blokes tiptoed to the living room where they found Hermione and Ginny discussing something of interest.

Ginny waved a hand dismissively, "Let's not talk about that poof, shall we? Let's discuss the subject of _your _frustration. My brother. Why're you angry with the bloke?"

Harry opened his mouth, receiving a shove from George. Harry glared at George, which George couldn't see. The three blokes stood shoulder to shoulder so as to know where the other two were. Harry sighed. _The fact that she firmly believes that I'm a poof is quite disheartening. Never mind that, though. I'll win her affection. Bloody hell, I _really _sound like a knight attempting to save a damsel! Or woo one, at least. _

Hermione sighed, "He made a bet with Harry—"

"Who?! Ron? I beg to differ!" Ginny paused. _The question is how to word what I'm about to tell her without starting a row… Merlin knows that Hermione's the worst person to have a row with._

It was Ron's turn to open his mouth, receiving a shove from Harry. Ron retaliated by stomping on Harry's foot, causing Harry to yelp in pain.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. She glanced around nervously after hearing the yelp, "Did you hear that, Gin?"

"I'm going to completely disregard the fact that you just said that. Only because the _last _time, I discovered that Harry was in love with my brother." Ginny replied shortly. _How could he even fancy Ron?! I'm much prettier than Ron is. Duh, Gin, you're a bird. Ron's a bloke. I wonder what Harry's taste in blokes is like. How disturbing… _

George snickered quietly. _Ginny is _such_ an idiot. After years of having this unrequited love for The Boy Who Lived, she decides to reject the idea that he fancies her too! Girls. They're dafter than we are. _

Deciding that salvaging Hermione's trust in Ron was more important than keeping Hermione temporarily happy with her, Ginny continued, "Ron never made a bet of _any _sort! Actually, it was George, _that poof Harry_, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and I who made a bet at the twins' party! And the bet was _about _you and Ron. Ron took no part in the bet. He was completely unaware of the fact that Harry set up surveillance on The Burrow."

Ron's chest puffed up with pride. _At least my little sister is coming to my defense. _

"So you're telling me that _you _knew about the surveillance in The Burrow?! And didn't tell Ron _or _me?!" Hermione said slowly, digesting the information.

"Er…yes." Ginny admitted quietly. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for Hermione to implode. She was surprised at Hermione's reaction.

Hermione confirmed with a nervous tone, "Ron didn't make a bet with Harry or the twins about something like whether or not he could get me to shag him—"

Ginny interrupted Hermione by bursting into giggles.

Hermione glowered at her, "What! It's a valid suspicion!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "_Really_, Hermione. I didn't think my brother was the exhibitionist type. And the fact that _you _think so, well, that's just—snicker—perhaps that's more than I need to know. Plus, it's a bit _early _to be even _suspecting _him of wanting to shag you."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know _why _I think of these things. It's just that whenever things go right for Ron and me, I have this nagging doubt that none of it's real. That it's all a sham."

"You sound uncharacteristically insecure and girly for the Hermione Granger I've known for the past six years." Ginny observed.

The older girl shrugged again. "I blame it on Ron. He drives me mad."

Ron elbowed his present twin brother and best mate who was a bloke. He elbowed them a bit too energetically, causing the three of them to trip over each other, knock the Invisibility Cloaks off, and fall in a heap on the floor.

Hermione and Ginny leapt from the couch, wielding their wands and fierce expressions. Seeing it was Ron, George, and Harry, the girls exchanged aloof expressions and lowered their wands with disappointment.

"Oh." Ginny replied.

"It's only _you _three." As Hermione emphasized the word, she glared at Ron.

"Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?" Ron asked sheepishly, staring at his faded shoes. He raised his gaze to meet hers and offered his hand.

Reluctantly, Hermione said, "Okay." Tentatively, she put her hand in his and followed him to the terrace.

Harry turned to Ginny, whose back faced him. He put a hand on her shoulder, which she shoved off. Sighing, he whispered, "Ginny."

"I don't talk to poofs who lead me on. Sorry." Ginny stomped off, not glancing backwards once to see Harry's frustrated, yet defeated expression.

_Meanwhile, on the terrace…_

The couple's fingers seemed to interlace on their own accord. By now, it was dusk. Behind them the sun was setting, basking them in perfectly pink-purple-golden warmth. They turned around to watch the sun descend in the horizon. A few quiet moments passed before Ron cleared his throat.

"Y'know, poppet—this statement is _probably _going to make you even angrier than you already are, but it must be said." Ron tilted her chin upwards so that her gaze held his, "I really have nothing to apologize about. But I feel like I should anyway, because I don't want to keep having pointless rows with you like this."

Hermione nodded slowly and admitted, "I know, Ron." She sighed, "I don't know why I jump to these horrid conclusions about you."

"It's because I'm a monster." He teased.

She shook her head, "You _do _realize, though, that you can be a complete git."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, "Yeah. I know. I say things to frustrate you or do things that vex you, and I'm not exactly the most sensitive guy in the world." He paused, "But I fancy you. A lot. And since I've come to that realization, I've made a _conscious _effort—"

"Not to inadvertently start a row by aggravating me. I know, Ron." She squeezed his hand. "Y'know, this would be a rather tender moment, if it weren't us."

"Tragic thing, isn't it?" He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed her temple. "It's because I drive you mad."

Disregarding the fact that he stated that because he overheard her and Ginny's conversation, she simply said, "Quite." She tiptoed to kiss him, then paused, acting as though what she was about to say was an afterthought, "I'm terribly sorry that I underestimate you. You _do _know that it's out of habit, though, right?"

"Most definitely." Ron replied and decided to explain why Harry said there was a bet. "Turns out, the whole Hogwarts lot and George bet on what _you _were going to do next in reaction to our getting together at the twins' shindig. Harry observed what happened at The Burrow so as to determine the winner of the bet."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock, "Merlin! He—he probably saw us—during and after the rain…" She winced, "Oh, how embarrassing…"

He smirked and wished instantly to change the mood. In the cheesiest manner possible, he held their clasped hands close to his heart and wrapped his free arm around her waist. She slipped her free arm around his waist.

Ron grinned broadly and leaned down, "I came here to grovel and woo you with my wit and charm. Then, I got an apology _and _a kiss instead. Life is bloody brilliant!"

A millimeter between them, Hermione smiled cheekily, "You haven't gotten a kiss _yet_. And I could very well deprive you of it."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "You wouldn't be so cruel…"

Before she could reply, he closed the space between them. Their lips met softly. He kissed her slowly, as though promising not to provoke her, thus causing a row _ever _again. At least, that's what both liked to think. Neither could guarantee that it wouldn't happen, seeing as how it was their nature. After they parted, lips slightly swollen, they exchanged bashful looks and laughed.

"Funny how we still get shy around each other, at times." Ron replied off-handedly.

"I'm not one to make girly declarations often…" Hermione began quietly, staring at the ground.

He nodded and said, "That's why you're Hermione. Barring the irrational outbursts you have occasionally, you're not the clichéd teenage girl."

She shoved him jokingly and continued, "…but I reckon it's when you kiss me that I _know_."

"That you know what?" His eyes grew wide with anticipation. _What does she know? I doubt she'll tell me. I reckon I have an inkling about it…but I won't say anything about it. It'd be nice if we were traditional and I said it first. If that's even what she's thinking. But I don't know. Merlin, this is confusing._

"Oh," She pantomimed tossing her hair haughtily, "you'll find out." _Later, rather than sooner because I'm not even completely sure of it yet…and I surely won't be the first to say I suspect I do._

With a cryptic smile, Hermione boldly kissed Ron again. He dropped her hand to coil his other arm around her waist. Her arms traveled up his sides and came to clasp at the nape of his neck.

"Ahem." George cleared his throat, "I reckon you two have patched things up, then?"

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to face his brother, "Yes. And since you know, can you give us a bit of privacy, then?"

"You see, little brother, the reason I came out here was because I was informed by my lovely neighbors that two young lovebirds were providing a peep show for Mildred and Archie, over there." George cocked his head towards an apartment building across the street where an elderly couple was spying at them through a telescope.

Ron and Hermione exchanged frightened expressions. Ron gulped nervously, "I reckon it's time to go inside, eh, love?"

"Best thing you've said all night, darling." Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

The couple led George into the flat, locking the door behind them. George watch them retreat to the kitchen. He turned around, his eyes darting around suspiciously. Glaring at the still-watching elderly couple across the street, he pulled the shades down almost spitefully.

George looked upstairs to Ginny's closed door, then down to Harry in the living room. Harry was anguish personified, sitting in a squashy armchair with his brow furrowed, contemplating hard.

Shaking his head, George said, "Thank Merlin I'm not a bumbling teenager anymore." He walked to the kitchen, "But what I'd give to be in love…" With a wistful smile, he watched Ron and Hermione rummage in the cabinets for food. They pushed each other, snogging each other in the process, "The fools don't even know it yet."

Author's notes: So. How was it? Y'know what'd be a great Christmas present for me? When I finish this fic, to have 600 reviews. I'm not demanding. Just saying. :-) As always, please review!


	12. Ch 12: All I know

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's ramblings: I'm a day late on my self-imposed deadline. However, it's exam week, so I have a valid excuse. I've taken the hardest ones and have to take three more. Most people have to take four, but one of mine tomorrow is a Debate exam, which was an actual debate against a partner in the class. _Anyway_, about this chapter—it's quite possibly the longest chapter yet! However, I figured that since its namesake _is _the fic name, I needed to do it some justice. More misunderstandings and the like ensue, but not of as great impact as the past one. Hehe.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to every reviewer! The last bit was inspired by Gossip Queen's hilarious fic "Teachers Pass Notes Too".

In regards to feedback: As always, please review! Merry early Christmas, though I'll have two more updates soon—one before, and one on Christmas. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve: All I know

As Ron reached for a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that sat in the highest cabinet, an owl pecked noisily at the kitchen window adjacent to him.

"Hm. A Ministry owl." Ron frowned and called into the living room, "George! Did you and Fred do anything illegal recently? Y'know, other than the usual?"

George looked up from rummaging through his and Fred's record collection, "Not that I know of, Ron!"

Ron unlocked the window and threw it open. The Ministry owl hooted and flew to catch its breath on the counter. Ron untied the rolled up piece of parchment from the owl's neck. Hermione stood on her tiptoes and looked over his shoulder to read it.

Ron read aloud,

"_Dear Mr. Ronald Weasley,_

_We have received intelligence that Apparation and Disapparation modes of transportation were used at your place of residence this afternoon from three minutes past one until four minutes past two. At five minutes past two, Silent Disapparation was used to transport yourself to your brothers' place of residence near London._"

In the living room, Harry's head snapped up. Harry sneaked into the kitchen and watched his best mate's face grow paler with each sentence.

_As you know, unlicensed wizards are not permitted to use these types of transportation, because of safety precautious, and further illegal use of this type of transportation could lead to prohibiting you to obtain the proper license you need to Apparate and Disapparate, as well as expulsion from school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Unlicensed Transportation, 1978, Paragraph G). _

"RON!" Hermione shrieked, horrified, "You could have been _expelled_!"

"Wait a tick—I'm not finished reading the letter…" Ron swallowed with difficulty, since his throat seemed to have closed up from apprehension. He continued,

"_We would also ask you to remember that Silent Apparation and Disapparation is typically the mode of transportation used by Aurors and Aurors-in-training. If and when you decide to join the Ministry's Aurors, you are advised to refrain from Apparating and Disapparating silently until you obtain your Silent Apparation and Disapparation permit. _

_Enjoy the rest of your holidays!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE_

**_Ministry of Magic_**

_P.S. I have notified your father, since he _is _the surrogate Minister of Magic. He and your mum will be home shortly._"

George's eyes grew wide. He sprinted into the kitchen. "Did _you_…_just _say…" He paused, then his words came out rushed, "that Hopkirk sent word to Mum and Dad?!"

Ron and George glanced at each other with identical terrified expressions.

"Hell hath no fury like Mrs. Weasley." Harry joked nervously.

Hermione hit Harry's arm and was about to scold him for cursing, when two more Ministry owls flew into the kitchen through the open window. One rested on Harry's shoulder, while the other settled itself in George's hair and seemed inclined to nest there.

George swiftly took the roll of parchment from the owl and read to himself. He gasped, "If I do it again, the Ministry's kicking me out of the Order."

Harry's hands shook as he fumbled with the tie on his letter. He gave Owl Treats to the three owls and read quietly. His eyes bulged, "Shite! Apparently, I'm going to be suspended from the Auror training program if I ever teach a _non_-Auror-in-training how to Silently Apparate and Disapparate again!"

The Weasley brothers and the younger brother's best mates all exchanged fearful expressions.

"Ginny!" Suddenly, George ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Ginny's room.

Her door swung open, "What is it, George?"

"We've _got_ to get back to The Burrow."

"Why?"

"Mum and Dad are on their way—"

"They're not supposed to be back for another week!"

"—because the Ministry notified them, seeing as how Ron Silently Apparated and Disapparated without a license, as did I—"

"You've had your license for years!"

"—and Aurors and Aurors-in-training are the only ones who are technically supposed to _silently _do so."

Ginny's hand flew to her gaping mouth. "If no one can Apparate, how the bloody hell are we supposed to get to The Burrow before Mum and Dad?! And why can't we just get rid of the letters _here_?!"

George started pacing, then abruptly stopped, "Wait! There's no time to think. Come downstairs and _everyone _will figure this out."

They rushed downstairs to confer with the Golden Trio.

Fortunately, Hermione had already formulated a plan. "Okay, since Ginny brought her broom, she can fly. George and Harry can Disapparate normally. Ron and I will Floo."

"Right!" Harry's head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. "Shall we?" He and George looked at each other. With a CRACK, they were gone.

Ginny ascended the stairs again. She opened her bedroom window, mounted her broom, kicked off lightly and flew outside.

Ron and Hermione found a cauldron full of Floo powder by the living room fireplace. They threw a handful of powder into the fireplace, and squeezed into the compact space.

"THE BURROW!" They shouted simultaneously. They held onto each other tightly as soot swirled around them, colors melding together, everything spinning out of focus. Both of them felt rather dizzy.

Soon, they found themselves in The Burrow's fireplace. Ron gestured for Hermione to climb out first. Under other circumstances, she would have thanked him for his chivalry, but at the present moment, she hastened out of the fireplace, brushing soot off herself as she went. Ron followed.

Hermione paused, "Doesn't seem like anyone's here."

"Au contraire, my future sister-in-law." George said from his seat on the couch.

"C'mon, Hermione. Surely _you_ knew that Apparating and Disapparating are quicker than Flooing." Harry rolled his eyes, brushing his nails off on his shirt exaggeratedly as he perched on the arm of the couch.

"Not only that, but I happen to be the star Chaser for Gryffindor." Ginny flew into the room from the kitchen, her hair windblown. She dismounted her broom and held it upright by the handle.

"I'm back from Angelina's!" Fred called from his old room. He descended the stairs quickly to meet the rest of the group.

"So far so good." Ron smiled confidently, "Mum and Dad will arrive late enough so that I can destroy the evidence—"

Harry and George handed Ron their letters, which he folded with his. Taking his wand out of his back pocket, he began to say, "_Incen_—"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley." The voice of death whispered almost inaudibly.

Ron stopped mid-spell.

The others gasped, their eyes averting to the voice's owner.

Ron inhaled sharply and attempted to swallow. He turned around carefully and managed to squeak, "Hi Mum. Hi Dad."

The Weasley parents stood before the Hogwarts lot and the twins. Mrs. Weasley was more tanned and Mr. Weasley was more freckled than before after their summer-long trip to the Bahamas and other islands in the Caribbean. Mrs. Weasley wore a cotton sundress, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sandals, while Mr. Weasley wore a t-shirt, Bermuda shorts, large sunglasses, and flip-flops. Mr. Weasley still had a streak of zinc smeared onto his nose. He furrowed his brow, attempting to look stern.

Everyone suppressed giggles. Under normal circumstances, it was almost impossible for Mr. Weasley to look stern. But now, especially, with a blue streak of zinc on his nose…and his _clothes_…they were so…Muggle touristy, it was unfeasible for him to attempt to be a disciplinarian!

Mrs. Weasley's right eye twitched violently as she continued in her chilling whisper, "There is _nothing _to be laughing at."

The Weasley children, Hermione, and Harry simultaneously gulped. Rather loudly at that. They braced themselves. The offenders felt themselves shrinking with each passing second. Ron could've sworn that he was two feet tall.

Ginny started counting in her head. _Explosion in three…two…one—_

"_Silently Apparating! What were you thinking—sick with worry—did you care?! Could've splinched! Suspended from order—expelled from school—**killed**!!_" Mrs. Weasley sucked in a large amount of air. She glanced at Harry and Hermione, smiling, "Glad to have you two at The Burrow again! Hopefully, we'll be seeing both of you around here even after your Commencement this year."

"Thank you." Hermione managed to squeak, giving her a small smile.

"Thank you—and hopefully we will be." Harry echoed, sweat dripping from his brow.

George opened his mouth to protest, but was quieted by Mrs. Weasley with a wave of her hand. "George, don't even bother asking me why I'm not mad at Harry. It wasn't _his _fault—"

Harry cleared his throat, "Mrs. Weasley, yes it was. I suggested that I teach them how to Silently Apparate and Disapparate. Well, first, I taught Ron how to normally do so, and then I taught him and George how to silently do it. Really, it's all my fault."

Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows, "And what inspired you to do this?"

"Well, you see, er, the thing is—" Harry faltered. He gave Ron a pleading look that cried, "Save me!"

Ron cleared his throat. "Mum, Dad, perhaps we should start from the beginning. I'd reckon you two better sit down."

The Weasley parents exchanged horrified glances.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes darted from Ron to Hermione and back again. Turning pale, she started shakily, "You two aren't—"

Ron interrupted, beaming, "Yes! We are!"

Mrs. Weasley's jaw dropped. She looked positively horrified, "But—you both—"

"I know! Isn't it great?! I reckon you were going to say it's about time, eh?" Ron's grin grew wider. He reached for Hermione's hand. She placed her hand in his shyly, glancing at the Weasley parents as though asking for permission with her eyes.

"About time?! You two are sixteen!" Mrs. Weasley collapsed into one of their squashy chairs.

"Congratulations!" Mr. Weasley choked out, turning bright red. He clapped a hand protectively on his wife's shoulder and stood beside her.

Mrs. Weasley glared at him and muttered, "I _told _you we shouldn't have left them alone—"

Mr. Weasley sighed, "Oh, Molly, there's so much worse that could've happened—"

"Um," Hermione coughed. Seeing the Weasleys' less-than-enthusiastic responses, she nervously began, "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—"

Mrs. Weasley automatically replied, "Call me Molly, dear. You're family now."

"Oh no! I couldn't—" Hermione blushed furiously, "—um, this is alright with the two of you, isn't it?"

Ron interjected again, "Nonsense! Of course it is!" He answered for them, planting a kiss on her forehead, "They love you!"

Hermione ignored Ron and continued, "—I know we're young, but I reckon that you two were sixteen when you two started—"

Mrs. Weasley did a double take. "Hermione, dear, did you just say that Arthur and I were sixteen when we…started…"

"Er…yes? It's true, isn't it? I just wanted to clarify…" Hermione said.

The parents Weasley blushed deeply. Mr. Weasley began, "Well, those were different times—we didn't know if we were going to die soon because of You-Know-Who and…"

"…yes! That's right, so we clung to each other, spent every moment together—and before we knew it, we were engaged." Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at Mr. Weasley. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

Ron and Hermione traded confused expressions.

"Mum, you realize that it's a _long _time before we are even _thinking _about…" Ron gulped, "…the _m _word."

Mr. Weasley bolted up straight. "Now, Ron, I realize that times have changed, but I have _not _raised any of my boys to be…dishonorable!"

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion, "Dad, what're you talking about?"

"You! And Hermione! She's—she's—" Mrs. Weasley's voice dropped to a frightened whisper, "—pregnant."

"PREGNANT?!" The Golden Trio and the present Weasley siblings shouted.

"Yes!" Mrs. Weasley's head bobbed up and down, "There you are, all of you verified it." She began to cry, "Hermione, dear, I'm thrilled to have you become part of this family, though I wish it could've been some other way—"

"There, there, Molly." Mr. Weasley stroked his wife's hair and kissed her hand, which he was holding.

Hermione started sniggering, "Mrs. Weasley…"

"Come here, dear!" Mrs. Weasley reached out to Hermione and squashed her in a hug. Hermione hugged back, still laughing. "Hermione, I realize that you're hormonal, but this is no laughing matter!"

Hermione pulled back from the embrace and stated with a straight face, "Mrs. Weasley, I'm not pregnant."

"You're not?! Then what rubbish was Rongoing on about?!"

"He just wanted to tell you that he's my—and I'm his—y'know—"

Fred feigned whispering loudly from his seat on the couch, "Mum, Ronniekins wanted to tell you the oh-so-shocking news that he and Hermione are together. She's his _girlfriend_ now."

George made kissing noises until Ginny elbowed him to stop.

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley dabbed her eyes with Mr. Weasley's shirt and giggled, "In that case, you're right, Ron. It's about time!"

"So _that's _what you meant by 'were we sixteen when we started'…" Mr. Weasley slowly nodded in comprehension.

"What'd _you _think she meant, Dad?" Fred asked, purely out of curiosity.

The Weasley parents looked at each other embarrassedly. Mr. Weasley stuttered, "Er, um, I—uh…"

The Triumvirate of Gryffindor, Ginny, and the twins shuddered.

"You can stop right there, Dad. I still try to maintain the belief that I was delivered from the stork." Ginny recoiled at the thought.

Mr. Weasley rolled his eyes, "_Really_, you lot could be more mature about this topic. There wouldn't be seven of you children if we didn't—"

"OKAY! Back to the story!" Ron said loudly. "To make a long story short, Mum and Dad…Harry and I made Hermione and Ginny quite angry, which caused them to run away. We had to find them. Harry felt that the most effective way to apologize was to make a show out of it, since that's what he does best—"

"I do _not _like making shows!" Harry interjected.

"—and so he taught me how to Apparate and Disapparate, since I'll be needing to get my license soon. Y'know, since I'll be turning seventeen in March and all. Then, like he said, he taught me how to do it silently. We went to the twins' flat and found the girls there. And now we're all back at The Burrow."

"Because you wanted to destroy the evidence." Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at her youngest son, "_Accio parchment_!" She flicked her wand and grabbed the Ministry's letters.

"Molly, it's the end of summer. Fall term is going to be starting soon. I think we should let them off with a stern warning—" Mr. Weasley paused, giving them a severe look. He continued, "—and Harry can teach _me _how to Silently Apparate and Disapparate!"

Mrs. Weasley threw her hands up in the air, "Arthur, you're incorrigible!"

Ron and Hermione grinned at each other.

"That's what I tell Ron." Hermione smiled at Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, "It's the whole lot of Weasley men."

Mr. Weasley grinned cheekily, "But that's why you love me."

"That's what love is, Arthur. Loving a person in spite of it all." Mrs. Weasley pecked his cheek.

"Ooooh…" The twins chorused.

"I'm going upstairs." Ginny announced and sneaked out of the living room.

"Me too!" Harry followed her, albeit to her disdain.

"Us, as well!" Ron tugged Hermione's hand to get her to go with them.

The twins shrugged, "Suppose we will…"

-O-

The beginning of fall term came and went by more quickly than six years past. As usual, the day the term began was complete chaos at The Burrow. However, it was the first year that Ron leapt out of bed, thrilled to go back to Hogwarts. In fact, Mr. Weasley caught him dancing around the bathroom singing the Pointer Sisters' song "I'm So Excited". Rather than going through the ordeal of taking cabs to Kings Cross, Mr. Weasley borrowed Ministry cars to transport the entire clan to the station.

"Be good." Mrs. Weasley warned the Hogwarts lot as she distributed hugs and sandwiches before they boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"Yes, Mum." Ron and Ginny chorused.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione and Harry mimicked the way the youngest Weasleys responded.

"Hermione, dear, did I tell you how _fantastic _it is that you and Ron are together?" Mrs. Weasley looked dotingly upon her youngest son's love interest.

"No, Mum. I reckon the first twenty billion times didn't register with the quick-witted one." Fred replied drolly.

Hermione grinned, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

Ron rolled his eyes andoffered Hermione his arm, in spite of the fact that he was carrying loads of things. "Bye Mum, Dad, Gred, and Forge."

Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny boarded the Hogwarts Express and settled into their usual compartment. They waved out the window to a particularly weepy Mrs. Weasley, a comforting Mr. Weasley, and a faux-nostalgic Fred and George. The twins blew kisses to them jokingly. After sitting with her boyfriend, her other best mate, and her other best mate's love interest, Hermione left the compartment for the Head Girl and Head Boy compartment.

Fred pantomimed wiping a tear from his eyes, "It was only yesterday when it was _our _last time to board the red train."

"Our glory days are over, mate." George shook his head, pretending to be morose.

"It's Ron's last year at Hogwarts! Then Ginny's next year!" Mrs. Weasley sniffled.

Mr. Weasley patted her back soothingly. "Just think, Molly, with all of the children having graduated, we'll have The Burrow to ourselves again! It's been, oh, almost thirty years since that's happened!"

Mrs. Weasley shrugged with a sigh, "I'll miss them, though."

"They'll still visit during holidays, like these two." Mr. Weasley ruffled the twins' hair.

"I suppose." Mrs. Weasley said quietly.

Meanwhile, on the train, Hermione took complete charge as she was born to do. She relished her new title, but not to the extent that Percy did in her third year. As Harry predicted, Draco Malfoy was named Head Boy. Ron tried to be civil to the bloke, trusting Hermione's opinion. Okay, so _that_ was a complete fallacy. He was bloody jealous of Draco and Hermione patrolling through compartments and sharing their own. However, he kept telling himself that Hermione was his girlfriend and not Draco's. That provided _some _relief. And watching Ginny and Harry figuratively dance around each other provided for some entertainment.

By the first week of the term, Harry and Ginny seemed to have reached a silent reconciliation, albeit, an awkward one. However, by September, they were joking and chatting as they did prior to the infamous misunderstanding. Sans-blatant flirting, of course, since their tentatively repaired friendship couldn't endure another horrible fiasco.

On Saturday September twelfth, Ron awoke with a start in the wee hours of the morning. He bolted up in his bed, drew the curtains back and shouted, "Shite!"

The other boys grumbled in their sleep.

"Shutthebloody'ellup—" Seamus mumbled.

"Wha' 'e said." Dean groaned, throwing a pillow into the middle of the room.

"…" Neville always slept through everything.

Harry was the only one who actually responded. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, drew his curtains back and asked, "What is it, Ron?"

"It's a week 'til Hermione's birthday." Ron buried his face in his hands.

"So?" Harry shrugged, "Knowing you, you've been planning something…oh."

"Yeah." Ron nodded slowly, "I _haven't _been planning something grand because of term starting. I promised her that I'd make the best marks I've ever made this term. And the rest of the year! Quite uncharacteristically, I've actually been _studying_—"

"What is that?" Harry cupped a hand to his ear, "The apocalypse is going to happen? Yeah, that's what I thought I heard."

"—and taking _notes_ and _not _bugging _her _for _her notes_!" Ron stated proudly. "I've been the model student."

"Mate, you _do _realize that we've been in school for a couple of weeks, don't you? Knowing you, you'll relapse and assume your old habits." Harry said realistically.

"Back to the more pressing matters…what're we going to do?!"

"No, Ron. More like what're _you _going to do. _I'm _not the one dating the crazy bird—"

"Hey…" Ron started getting up, when Harry grinned.

"—not to say she isn't a _chill _and _endearing_, crazy bird. But she's a crazy bird nevertheless."

"I just want to make her birthday…Merlin, this sounds _so_ cliché…_special_. No, scratch that…_extraordinary_."

"Much better word."

"I agree." The redhead sighed, "She's just—"

"Hermione. And you're mad about her." The black-haired bloke nodded knowingly.

"Yeah." Ron said softly. "I am."

"Are you going to throw a party? Or have a romantic rendezvous?" Harry waggled his eyebrows.

Ron chucked a pillow at Harry, which hit him square in the face.

"So it's the latter, then." Harry sniggered.

Ron shrugged, "I'll think of something."

_September 19th, Hermione's birthday_

"Ron, where are we going?" Hermione asked him for the millionth time.

"I can't tell you." Ron squeezed her hand. He had blindfolded her and had his other hand clamped over her eyes in case she decided to peek.

All Hermione knew at the moment was that they were outside. For a September evening, the breeze was balmy and blew softly on her face. While she enjoyed her past birthdays being on weekdays at Hogwarts, since everyone in her classes (including, and perhaps, even more so—her professors) celebrated it in some way. Last year was full of surprises in her classes. In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall transfigured a hairbrush into an enormous three-tiered birthday cake topped with ridiculous amounts of frosting. In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid trained some of his hybrid Blast-Ended Skrewts to sing "Happy Birthday" to her. In Herbology, Professor Sprout made Neville, Hermione's greenhouse partner, do her planting for her, much to her disapproval. Fortunately, Neville managed to emerge from the lesson unscathed. Not to mention, Ron, Harry, and Ginny gave her thoughtful presents.

This year was entirely different. She awoke to Ron jumping on her bed. Unlike the regular dormitories, the Head Girl's quarters wasn't guarded with spells to keep boys out. Considering the Head Girl was the most prestigious position a female Hogwarts student could obtain, the responsibility came with a great amount of trust. For that, Hermione was grateful. It was nice to be able to have Ron, Harry, and Ginny in her room away from the noisy first years who occupied the Gryffindor Common Room.

_That morning…_

"Wake up!" Ron jumped merrily on her bed, "It's your seventeenth birthday, Hermione!"

"Go away." She rolled over and buried her head under her pillow.

"I won't have that! How many times have you had to drag me out of bed?"

_He makes an excellent point. _"Ron, that was for _lessons_. It's a _weekend_ and my _birthday_, so I reckon you let me do what I want—" She mumbled from under the covers.

"If you're going to stay in bed, you better budge up." Ron stopped jumping and sat beside her. Kicking off his shoes, he wiggled under her covers and threw an arm around her waist, snuggling close to her back so that they were spooning. Before she could say anything, he cast a quick anti-morning breath spell on her.

"Ron…" Hermione peeked from beneath her pillow and gave him a shy smile. "You're in my bed."

"First thing in the morning, too." He gave her a mischievous lopsided grin.

She rolled her eyes, then said slowly, "We could stay here for a little while, if you'd like."

"Really?" He perked up.

"No, not really, especially since any moment now—"

Hermione's door swung open.

"Happy birthday—ack!" Harry and Ginny's eyes bulged out and they jumped back, frightened.

"Nothing's going on, you two." Hermione sat up, covering herself up with her blanket.

"_Really_, then why are you and Ron spooning?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Ginny cringed, "I _hate _that term. It's so…eh…"

"We're fully clothed, you gits." Ron sat up, as well and held his hands above his head to prove that they hadn't been doing anything wrong.

After Harry and Ginny gave Hermione her presents, they and Ron cleared out to allow her time to take a shower and get dressed.

_That afternoon…_

The rest of the morning was spent entertaining Hermione by performing scenes from her favorite Shakespeare plays in her quarters. Ron also read aloud to her for a change (barring the time she was ill over the summer) from a new text called _Hogwarts: The Mysteries and Unknown History _that Ginny gave her.

Harry had given her a collection of Shakespearean plays. He and Ginny concluded an over-exaggerated performance of Romeo and Juliet's balcony scene, which was met by applause from both Hermione and Ron. Hermione sat in Ron's lap, leaning her head back into the crook between his shoulder and neck. His arms were looped around her waist and they held hands.

"You two should take it on the road." Hermione laughed, "The way you two somehow modernize the typically incomprehensible Old English is fantastic. The acting was superb."

Harry took a bow, "Thank you."

Ginny curtsied and grinned cheekily, "It's easy when you have a couple you're mates with whose relationship is theatrical."

Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes identically and snorted. Looking at each other in surprise, they snickered.

Harry shook his head. _When are they going to tell each other how madly in love they are?_

Ron glanced at Harry who was presently jabbing Ginny with his index finger. She squirmed and punched his arm. They started shoving each other, which led to a pillow fight. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

Hermione beckoned to Ron so that he would lean down. She whispered into his ear, "What's it going to take to get them to realize how they feel for each other?"

Ron shrugged, "They'll come around. After all, if we did, then anyone can."

_That night…_

"Okay. Now." Ron simultaneously lifted his hand and the blindfold off of Hermione's face.

Her eyes widened in surprise and wonder.

Ron had taken her to one of the hidden, presently moonlit gardens at Hogwarts. Ivy crept up the castle walls that enclosed the garden, which had an enormous oak tree in the center, grass instead of cobblestones on the ground, shrubs, fruit plants, millions of flowers bursting with color, and most importantly, white daisies blooming everywhere.

"How'd you find this?" Hermione gaped as Ron picked a daisy and tucked it behind her ear.

"Read it in the book Ginny gave you." Ron squeezed her hand nervously, "Is it alright?"

"It's…to borrow one of your phrases…brilliant."

"So are you." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"You're such a sap, Ron Weasley." She giggled.

He gestured to the picnic blanket he set up earlier underneath the gigantic tree. They sat beside each other. "While you're aware it's your birthday, you're probably unaware of the fact that it's also one month since Fred and George's shindig."

"We've been together for a month?!" Hermione helped Ron unpack the picnic basket.

"Yeah." Ron nodded.

They ate Hermione's favorite foods and finished off half of a birthday cake that Dobby made. After sitting in a comfortable silence, Ron cleared his throat.

Ron began, looking down at his hands, "Now, I realize that I'm not famous like that ruddy git _Krum_ or rich like _Malfoy_—"

Hermione took his face in both of her hands and forced him to look at her. "Ron, you're all I know."

Ron frowned, "I doubt that's very good. You probably wonder what it's like to be a girlfriend to one of those blokes—"

She shook her head adamantly and dropped her hands to his shoulders, "That's the thing. Crazy as it sounds, you're all I know. Period. You're all I _need_ to know."

His face reddened, "Oh." He paused, "You know I feel the same, right?"

She smiled, "Yeah." It was her turn to pause, "Wait, where's that music coming from?"

"Heh, I transfigured one of the shrubs into a battery-powered CD player. And I had Fred burn a CD with the songs that remind me of you. And that remind me of us." Ron bit his bottom lip, "Is it okay?"

"Will you stop being so bloody insecure, Ron?! It's perfect! This entire rendezvous is _perfect_." Hermione's ears perked up, "It's our song."

Ron jumped up, offering Hermione a hand. He pulled her up quickly. Conveniently, she fell into him. They wrapped their arms around each other and giddily danced around the garden, laughing and snogging as they went.

Unbeknownst to them, Dumbledore and McGonagall passed by on a late night "patrol" of the castle grounds.

Dumbledore sighed, "Ah, to be young again."

McGonagall looked over her spectacles at him, "When was the last time you were in love, Albus? And not that silly story about one of your pets…when's the last time you were in love with a _human_."

Dumbledore shrugged. "When was the last time _you _were in love, Minerva?"

McGonagall mirrored his shrug. "I can't recall. I definitely would if I were as taken with him as Hermione is with Ron."

"And vice-versa." Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively. "I foresee that they'll share a long, bright future together."

"I agree. With loads of ginger-haired children, undoubtedly." McGonagall nodded, "Not to mention Potter and Ginny Weasley."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "If only we could make that move along a bit quicker."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows with an uncharacteristic amount of mischief in her eyes, "Perhaps we can."

Author's notes: So? How was it? Good or bad, please review!


	13. Ch 13: Everytime you're here

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's ramblings: Here it is! The next installment in my fic! Five days after the last update, too. Impressive, no? I'm _finally _on break! I'm going to finish the Christmas chapter and post it either on Christmas Eve or on Christmas itself, depending on how fast all of you review this chapter. :-) This chapter is full of fluff! It's another long one.

Dedication: To every reader and every reviewer.

Reminder: I appreciate constructive criticism, as well as gushy reviews. Hehe. Reviews make my day. In fact, 600 total for this chapter and the next would be the best Christmas present… Please read, enjoy, and review!

Chapter Thirteen: Every time you're here

The last wailing guitar riff in The Darkness's "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" resonated in the garden. Soon after, the mellow intro to "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service began.

Dizziness prevented Ron and Hermione from dancing in circles any longer. The garden's stonewalls seemed to have continued spinning around them. Once they were stable and not tipsily swaying from side to side, they close together, holding hands. Abruptly, Ron dropped one of Hermione's hands.

"I almost forgot!" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet box.

Hermione's eyes widened to the size of teacup saucers. She squeaked, "That isn't…it doesn't…have to…y'know, deal with the…the _m _word, does it?"

Ron chuckled, "Not unless you want it to." _I certainly wouldn't mind—I mean…er… _

"No, no, of course not!" Hermione laughed nervously. _Not right now, at least. Ahem, uh…_

Ron pressed the box into one of her hands. "Go on, open it."

Carefully, Hermione lifted the lid off the box. She gasped, "Ron, this must've cost—"

Ron winced slightly, "Don't worry about that. The _truly_ imperative question to be asked is, do you like it?" _What does she care how much it cost? I don't _care _about how much _anything _costs when it comes to her! Unless I'm getting ripped off. But other than that… _

"Yes!" She kissed him soundly. Grinning she asked, "Put it on for me, will you?"

"I'd be happy to oblige." Ron gave an exaggerated bow.

The velvet box contained a silver daisy-shaped locket. Inside the locket was a moving photograph of Hermione and Ron. Ginny had taken it with Harry's new magical camera during a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry had recently purchased his new camera when affronted by the Creevey brothers. Colin asked Harry if he could take Harry's photo for the billionth time. Harry promised Colin that once he had his own camera, he would take millions of photos of himself and give them to Colin. Would he _really_? Bloody hell no! In the locket's photo, Ron and Hermione were kissing sweetly, each peeking with one eye open at the camera. For some odd reason, Ginny was the only one besides the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio who was allowed to touch Harry's camera. Wonder why that was…

Ron cautiously took the locket and chain out of the box. He moved to stand behind Hermione, who lifted her untamed curls off the back of her neck. Slowly, he flicked the clasp open and brought the necklace to her neck. Fastening the clasp, he hastily kissed the slope of her neck and she let her hair fall into his face. He buried his face in it, looping his arms around her waist and pulling her back to his front. She gave an almost inaudible sigh. Resting her arms over his, she pulled him closer. Suddenly, she spun around and buried her face in his chest, hugging his middle tightly.

"Thif huf vin ve bos—" Hermione mumbled incoherently.

"Didn't catch that. Sounded rather like German or something." Ron kissed the top of her head and brushed her cheek lightly with the pad of his thumb, "Perhaps you should stop talking into my chest. _Then _I _may _have a slightly better chance of translating."

She rolled her eyes and rested her chin on his chest, angling her face upwards to see his properly, "What I was _beginning _to say was, this has been the best birthday I've had at Hogwarts."

"Not _ever_? After all of my meticulous planning, too." He feigned pouting slightly, his bottom lip jutting out.

"Don't feel discouraged, Ron." Hermione joked. She began to explain, "When I was five, my mum gave me a pony."

Ron gaped at her, "You're kidding."

"No…she rented it for a day. But for _that _day, I had a pony, and what little girl _didn't _want a pony?"

He paused to ponder that for a moment.

She tossed her hair and feigned triumph, "See? You can't think of a single little girl whose biggest dream _wasn't _to have a pony—"

He interrupted, "Ginny. She wanted a broom."

She shook her head, conceding, "Given that Ginny grew up in a household with six brothers, I would expect nothing less. Plus, she's quite good at Quidditch."

"She's okay." Ron shrugged.

"I wonder what she's doing now…" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged again and gave her a roguish grin, "Fancy this—I don't have the _slightest_ care."

"But what if she's snogging Harry?" The brunette attempted to scare the redhead bloke.

They sat underneath the tree once more, basking in the moonlight. He sat cross-legged and she climbed into his lap, turned sideways so she could look at him properly.

"I reckon that's better than her snogging someone like Seamus…" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "This is a rather sickening subject…"

She nodded, "I agree. Thus, I say we focus on something more…interesting…"

"What do you suggest, Miss Granger?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Perhaps, Mr. Weasley, instead of chatting about _Ginny _snogging _someone_, _we_ could snog, instead." She batted her eyelashes coyly, laughing a bit. _I don't know why I'm being so ridiculous. But I reckon Ron doesn't mind. Heh…heh… Must be because I'm in a good mood—it _is _my seventeenth birthday, after all._

"There _are _more reasons why Dumbledore made you Head Girl, other than your marks!" He smirked.

Hermione swatted his arm playfully. Ron kissed her neck, then nibbled her ear. A giggle escaped her lips and she nuzzled his neck.

_Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Common Room_

"Checkmate." Ginny stated for the fourteenth time that night.

"You're horrible, Gin." Harry shook his head vehemently.

"My winning fourteen times consecutively without _any _threat of losing proves the contrary," She replied cheekily. "So, how much is it that you owe me?"

He rolled his eyes, "I reckon I should stop making bets with _any _of the Weasleys. I swear—I'm _always_ doomed to lose."

"Not really, Harry. You're just shite at playing chess." She spit raspberries at him before continuing, "And as far as the bet from the twins' party goes, no one could've known _exactly _what was going to happen. At times, my git of a brother and Hermione _can _be unpredictable." She paused, "I wonder what they're doing now."

"_I _don't. I'd be quite disturbed to know. And I already was after seeing them on The Burrow's surveillance that night." He gagged and busied himself with putting the Wizard Chess pieces back in their rightful places in the box.

Last Christmas, Ron had gotten Harry his own Wizard Chess set in hopes of helping Harry improve his chess skills. Unfortunately, improving Harry's chess skills was like trying to explain Quidditch in all its glory to Hermione. Harry closed the box and set it on the floor.

Ginny shuddered, "Good point. But seriously, Harry. How much do you owe me?"

Harry paused, tapping his stubby chin. "What was it? Fifty Knuts a game…multiplied by fourteen games—okay, that's 700 Knuts."

Ginny squinted at him, cocking her head to the side. She leaned forward, bringing her hand to Harry's face. He inhaled sharply as she ran the tips of her fingers over his jaw.

"What?" He croaked.

"You forgot to shave this morning." She commented, a corner of her mouth turning upward.

"Do you hate it?" He raised his eyebrows, causing his glasses to fall down the bridge of his nose.

"No," She paused to push his glasses back up his nose, "I rather like it, actually."

He cleared his throat, "Well, that's good to know."

"Makes you look…rugged." Randomly, she took his glasses off.

"Gin, you _know _I can't see a bloody thing without them—" In front of him, Ginny's face melted into a peach and red blur.

"I just wanted to see what you look like sans-glasses."

"Ah." His brow furrowed, "What's the verdict, then?"

"You don't look like yourself." She frowned.

"And that's…" Though he could barely see her, he felt her breath on his lips. They were _so _incredibly close to each other. Perhaps, closer than they had been since the summer. Literally as well as figuratively, now that he thought about it.

"…bad." Carefully, she put his glasses back onto his face. "Much better." She sat up quickly. _We were thisclose to…snogging! AHH! What the bloody hell?!_

Quietly, he sighed disappointedly. Randomly, his face perked up, "Instead of me _paying _you, why don't I do something else?"

She raised an eyebrow, "What, you're going to give me a striptease?"

"Your suggestion, not mine." Harry stood up and reached for the hem of his long-sleeved shirt.

"No!" Ginny shrieked _almost _convincingly, "No, I wasn't _suggesting_, I just figured that was what you were going to propose."

"Mm-hm." He snickered, "What I was _going _to suggest was that since next week's a Hogsmeade weekend, I could take you to lunch."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That sounds suspiciously like a date, Harry Potter."

He grinned, "That's because it _would _be, Ginny Weasley."

"Oh." She paused, "Okay."

"Okay?" He stared blankly at her.

"What, you want to back out now?" She crossed her arms over her chest and stood up to face him.

"Nonsense! I'm just…surprised! I never thought you'd actually say yes…" He suppressed a smirk.

"Don't go getting a huge ego, Potter." Ginny said over her shoulder as she walked to the sixth year girls' dormitory.

"Wouldn't dream of it…" Harry watched her retreating form, picked up his chess set, and all but skipped upstairs to the seventh year boys' dormitory.

_In the garden…_

"Are all of the flowers real?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed, as they strolled around the garden.

"Yes." Ron grinned. There was so little that put Hermione in awe, that he was almost proud to do so. "Professor Sprout helped me with transplanting some of the daisies I've been growing in her greenhouses to this garden. I started doing it when term started."

She stopped walking and grinned contentedly. She slipped her arms around his neck and tiptoed to kiss him.

"What was that for?" He blinked in surprise, "Not that I mind, but…"

"Oh, just for being you." She laughed in an uncharacteristically giddy manner.

He raised his eyebrows, "Who are you and what've you done with my girlfriend?"

She rolled her eyes. As she opened her mouth to reply, the clock tower's bells rang five times. The bells were a warning that curfew was to be enforced in five minutes.

"It's almost midnight, Ron!" Hermione's hands flew to her mouth in horrification.

"We can make it." Ron replied confidently.

Having said that, Ron lifted Hermione off of the ground and threw her over his shoulders. She screamed in surprise as they raced towards the castle. Ron raced, rather, and Hermione enjoyed the ride. She reached into his back pocket and cleaned up the garden with a flick of his wand. He set her down as they reached the side entrance to the castle that led straight to the Head Girl and Head Boy quarters. They hurried up the stairs.

Standing in front of Hermione's door, the two stared at each other, panting.

Ron opened his mouth to say something when a "meow" came from his ankles. He glanced down to find Mrs. Norris's eyes flashing vindictively. Hermione squeaked, opened the door to her quarters, and pulled Ron in after her. He was about to protest, but she pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. She locked the door and cast an Impervious Charm on it. Swallowing nervously, the couple listened carefully and heard Filch mumbling outside the door.

"There was a _boy _here, my sweet?" Filch asked Mrs. Norris.

Mrs. Norris meowed.

"Probably was the youngest Weasley boy. He and Granger have gotten _quite_ friendly…or should I say, _friendlier _than they've ever been." Filch paced back and forth in front of Hermione's door. "Looks like an Impervious Charm. Bet _they're _busy…"

Ron suppressed a laugh. Hermione kicked him.

Mrs. Norris meowed louder.

"You're right. We should move on. There's no way we can get in there. Especially since _Granger_ cast the spell." Filch and Mrs. Norris headed down the corridor and towards the various Houses' dormitories.

Hermione and Ron exchanged amused expressions before bursting out in laughter.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," Ron's arms coiled around her waist, his hands resting in the small of her back.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, her hands traveling up his arms to clasp at the nape of his neck. "It's been fantastic."

"I'm glad." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Now, how to get out of here without being caught…" He paused, "We _barely _avoided Filch. Imagine if I ran into Snape!" He shuddered.

She laughed, then started blinking excessively.

"Something in your eye, Miss Granger?" He leaned forward, his hand cupping her cheek.

"No, Mr. Weasley." She said quietly, leaning into his hand. "I was thinking…well, you remember this morning?"

"Yes…" Ron began slowly, "_Loads _of things happened this morning…"

Hermione's head bobbed up and down, "Do you remember what I said? When you crawled into bed with me?"

His blue eyes widened, "Yes…you said that we could stay there for a little while, if I'd like. But then you said we couldn't, since Harry and Ginny would come in, and they did less than a moment later."

She smiled shyly, "They're not here now, though. So if you like, you don't _have _to go back to the boys' dormitories…"

"Hm, let me weigh my options for a moment…" He stroked his chin in an exaggeratedly pensive manner, "Sleep _here _with _you_ or sleep in the _dormitory _with _four_ other _blokes_ in the same room. This is a terribly tough decision to make."

She rolled her eyes, "The only problem is that you haven't any pajamas here."

He paused, "You have an owl, don't you?"

"I don't know how that has _anything _to do with—"

He interrupted, dropping his hands from her waist, "I'll write Harry and ask him to send over some pajamas."

She removed her hands from the back of his neck as he began to pace. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron. That'd be silly. Plus, he'd think we—y'know…_shagged _or something."

He shrugged, "We'd set the record straight in the morning."

She narrowed her brown eyes, "If it hadn't spread all over Gryffindor by then."

"Point taken." He agreed.

"As you should." She replied haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aha!" Ron reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a compact Invisibility Cloak. "I _thought _I still had one of these…"

Hermione bit her lip nervously, "You could always just sleep in your clothes…" Nevertheless, she lifted the Impervious Charm from the door.

"Rubbish!" He shook his head, unzipped the container and pulled the rest of the cloak out. "I'll be _right _back." He crossed the room to kiss her hastily before throwing the cloak over himself and running to the Gryffindor Tower.

She sighed as the door clicked behind him.

_In the boys' dormitory…_

"So Harry, you and Ginny looked rather _cozy_ after playing _chess_…" Seamus attempted to insinuate as much as possible in the two words.

Harry rolled his eyes and tossed a pillow in Seamus' direction. "I honestly don't have the _faintest_ idea—"

"That's okay, Harry. Feign innocence if you'd like." Neville said airily, "You'll tell us when you're ready."

Quietly, the dormitory door creaked open, then shut just as softly. None of the boys took notice.

Before Harry could reply, Dean said, "Seriously. We're all mature young adults here. We can keep a secret."

"And we won't tease you for it, either." Seamus added with a smirk, contradicting his declaration.

Harry narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the three other boys. "Alright." He inhaled deeply, "I lost fourteen rounds of chess."

"_That's_ the big secret?" Seamus asked, not bothering to veil his disgust, "I am _thoroughly_ disappointed in you, Potter."

"As am I." Neville shook his head in frustration.

Harry cried indignantly, "That's not _all_!"

"Oh. Carry on, then." Dean waved a hand.

"Right." Harry continued, "Prior to the actual chess playing, Ginny and I made a wager. The loser had to pay fifty Knuts to the winner. Fifty Knuts per game, that is."

Neville nodded knowingly, "Ah…so you lost purposely fourteen times in a row so that you could make some shoddy excuse to take her on a date instead of paying the wager."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have splendid deductive skills, Neville?" Harry asked, almost in awe.

Neville shrugged nonchalantly, "Once or twice."

"Has anyone ever told you that you refuse to do things in the easy way, Harry?" A familiar voice came from somewhere in the room, though no one could tell who was the source.

The four boys glanced around suspiciously. Instinctively, Harry jumped off his bed and grabbed at the air, exposing a previously cloaked Ron. Ron waved to his fellow seventh year dorm-mates.

"Clever one, Ron." Dean admitted.

Ron grinned, then turned to his best bloke mate, "Seriously, Harry. You _could've _simply asked her on a date. But no, that'd make too much sense! Instead, you _had_ to make a show, per usual—"

Harry threw his arms in the air and punched Ron's arm exasperatedly. "For Merlin's sake, Ron, I _do not _enjoy making shows! In fact, I'm rather content with being subtle—"

Seamus interrupted, "Which translates into, 'I'm made of chicken shite and tiptoe around the whole idea of _properly _asking a girl on a date'."

"As much as I'd like to lecture you on that aspect, Harry, I must be going." Ron fetched a clean t-shirt, pajama pants, his robe and slippers from his section of the room.

He took a step towards the door, when Harry said, "Hold it right there, Ron."

Ron gritted his teeth and turned around slowly. "What is it now, mate?"

"Are you going to Hermione's?" Harry walked towards the redhead and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Ron squinted confusedly at the black-haired bloke's hand on his shoulder. "Yeah…"

The three other blokes gasped.

"You two aren't…" Seamus' voice trailed off.

"They _couldn't_…" Dean's eyes grew wider by the second.

"I _doubt _that Hermione would let him…" Neville shuddered.

"_No_, we're not going to shag." Ron declared, almost disappointedly, "She just wanted me to sleep with her."

The four other blokes sniggered.

"_Not literally!_" Ron threw his arms up in exasperation, put the Invisibility Cloak on again, and headed out the door. Catcalls followed him as he slammed the door.

"I'm _sure_ you lot wouldn't tease me about Ginny if we were to ever get together." Harry rolled his eyes and flopped onto his bed.

"Never!" Seamus smirked.

"Not a chance…" Dean agreed.

"Quite." Neville snickered.

_At the Head Girl's quarters_

Hermione changed into a pale blue silk nightdress with spaghetti straps that fell right above her knees. She put on slippers and collapsed into a squashy armchair with _Hogwarts: The Mysteries and Unknown History_. A cautious knock came from her door. Putting a bookmark to save her place in the text, she set the book down and got up to answer the door.

"I thought you'd never—" She looked up in confusion. "Draco? What're you doing here?"

Draco's eyes flicked over her scantily clad form quickly. "Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Hermione." He handed her a medium-sized box with green wrapping paper.

"Er…thank you. How did you know it was my birthday?" She held the gift, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly.

"Never mind that. Aren't you going to open it?" Draco asked eagerly.

"Oh, yeah…" She nodded slowly and hesitantly unwrapped the gift. Tossing the wrapping paper aside, she lifted the lid on the box to find a new planner with a place to hold a quill. Breathing a sigh of relief, she smiled, "Thank you, Draco. I needed another one of these…"

"I know." Draco outstretched his arms to her.

"No need for a thank you hug, Malfoy." Ron took off his Invisibility Cloak, seething.

"Ron! What a surprise…" Draco forced an awkward laugh. "I was just…y'know…giving Hermione a birthday present."

"I noticed." Ron said drolly. "And now you have, so—"

Hermione tossed Ron a withering look before giving Draco an apologetic one, "He gave me a planner, Ron. Isn't that nice?"

"Quite." Ron replied through gritted teeth, still glaring at Draco.

Draco cleared his throat, "I'll be off, then." He whispered in Hermione's ear, "Feel free to give the thank you hug any other time…"

Hermione shook her head, "Er, I'd rather not, thanks." She added to his retreating form, "But thank you for the planner." She grabbed Ron's hand and led him into her room. She locked and Impervious charmed the door behind them.

Ron was poised to say something, when Hermione interrupted, "Before you say a word, may I remind you that it's technically still my birthday. You needn't jump to any conclusions—"

"Like you do?" Ron snapped.

Hermione's jaw dropped, as though she had been slapped.

Ron's expression went slack, "Hermione, I didn't mean that—"

She replied quickly, "I know." She paused, "But you _do _have to realize that Draco's just—"

"A friend. A mate. Or not even one of those—he's just an acquaintance…or perhaps a colleague." He sighed, "It's not my fault that you two have quarters next door to each other. And he looks at you like he wants to eat you whole because you _do _look rather delicious—"

She sniggered, "Interesting word choice."

He shrugged, "I'm going to change. If you don't want me to stay here tonight, then I can leave immediately after—"

"Oh honestly, Ron." Hermione squeezed his hand, "Go change. I'll be waiting."

The corner of Ron's mouth turned upward. He hurried to her bathroom and changed. He emerged wearing a white t-shirt that stretched across his chest because it seemed to have shrunken over the years, blue pajama pants and fluffy slippers. Hermione was standing in front of her bed. She giggled at the sight of the slippers. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Ron threw his clothes onto one of her armchairs. He advanced towards her and threw his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. She responded by flinging her arms around his neck and scrambling to latch her legs around his waist and behind his back. Losing his balance, Ron stumbled backward onto Hermione's bed.

Hungrily, he kissed her. Their fervent kisses were chaos—lips clashing, tongues battling, and playful bites. When they severely needed oxygen, they parted. He kissed the hollow of her throat, sucking, flicking his tongue there. She moaned, then grabbed his face and crashed her lips into his again. She trailed light kisses down his jaw, onto his neck, then back up to his lips. She parted his lips with her tongue. His hands slipped from the small of her back to rest on her bum. He groaned as her hips moved against his. She twisted fistfuls of his hair in her hands. Abruptly, he broke the kiss.

Breathing heavily, Ron gulped, "Perhaps we should…"

"…sleep." Hermione's head bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

Ron tucked an errant curl behind Hermione's ear. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair where she had mussed it.

He chuckled as she hastened to slide under the covers. He joined her, slipping his arm underneath her head so that he cradled it in his shoulder. His hand rested on her hip. She turned toward him and snuggled closer, entangling her legs with his so that one of hers was sandwiched between his.

"That nightdress is smashing." He whispered as her eyes began to flutter closed.

Smiling sleepily, she whispered back, "Thanks." With a yawn, she sighed.

Ron stroked her hair with his free hand, "I'm glad we have self-restraint. Especially since I'm _really _randy right now."

Hermione laughed softly. "You think boys are the only ones who get randy?" She joked, then promptly fell asleep.

He raised his eyebrows curiously, "I had no idea."

_The Wednesday after…_

"Are they up yet?" Hermione approached Ginny, who was sitting on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"If they are, they've haven't come down _here_." Ginny replied.

"So? Any progress with Harry?" Hermione paused, "And you _are _convinced that he's not a poof, right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know that Harry's not a poof. I don't know what the bloody hell I was thinking—and yes, there's been some progress. He asked me on a date."

The brunette's jaw dropped in surprise, "Excellent! It's about _time_…"

"Albeit, he had to do so by losing fourteen games of chess in a row, but then again, he never opts for the easy way to do things." The redhead shrugged, a smile stretching on her lips.

"Nevertheless, he did it. And that's always the biggest step." Hermione paused, "You reckon we should go check on them?"

Ginny shrugged, "Perhaps we should."

_Meanwhile, in the boys' dormitory_

"Oy! Harry!" Ron called from the bathroom, "Help me with my tie, will you?"

"Sure thing, mate." Harry entered the bathroom, the door swung so that it had an inch before it was closed, "Your tie's being uncooperative?"

"Quite." Ron nodded.

The other blokes stirred in their beds. Wednesday was always a day when it was particularly difficult to get up. Dean stretched lazily. Seamus rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Neville blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Yank it harder!" Ron cried from the bathroom.

The other three blokes snapped awake. Seamus sat up and crawled toward the bathroom. Dean and Neville followed, standing a foot away—far enough to eavesdrop on their other roommates.

"I'm _doing _it as hard as I can!" Harry protested.

"It's longer than I thought it'd be…" Ron frowned.

Dean gasped.

"What'd you _think _it'd look like?"

"Oh, I don't know—I suppose I thought the top would be bigger."

Seamus gagged in disgust.

"The knot bit?"

Neville passed out.

"Yeah." Ron paused, then declared, "You're such a wanker."

Dean and Seamus shuddered. They exchanged glances before hauling the comatose Neville away from the bathroom door. Ron and Harry emerged from the bathroom to find Dean and Seamus each holding one of Neville's feet.

"What's wrong with Neville?" Ron smoothed his tie over his chest.

Seamus stared at the floor, "Oh, er, nothing."

"You two are positively repulsive." Dean shook his head, not meeting either bloke's eyes.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Helping each other wank off, that's why!" Seamus whimpered.

The door burst open, "_What _the bloody hell is going on here?!" Ginny screeched.

"Merlin, no!" Harry looked skyward with an infuriated expression, "When will the eavesdropping end?!"

Hermione appeared by Ginny's side. The girls slipped into the room and shut the door behind them.

"Gin, I'm _sure _there's a good explanation for this." Hermione stated calmly, glaring at a disgusted Dean, a horrified Seamus, and unconscious Neville.

"Harry was helping me tie my tie. It was rather stubborn this morning." Ron rolled his eyes, "We weren't wanking off, for Merlin's sake!"

Neville awoke from his unconscious state. "Oh. That explains a load."

Dean, Seamus, and Ginny sighed in relief.

"The three of you—" Hermione stared pointedly at her best mates' fellow roommates and ordered, "—should get ready for breakfast."

Seamus, Dean, and Neville saluted and scurried around the room.

Ron took Hermione's hand and said over his shoulder, "We'll see you two at breakfast."

Harry waved. He rolled his eyes and looked at Ginny, who was still a bit wide-eyed, "Honestly, Ginny why do you constantly—"

She cut him off by grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him. The kiss was brief, a quick but intense meeting of lips…and almost as soon as it began, it was over. He blinked slowly at her.

"Did you just—" He paused, "Okay, so you did…the question is _why_…"

"I knew it would take you forever to." She responded cheekily.

"Is that a wager, Ginevra?"

"I reckon it is, Harry."

With that, he dipped his head low and captured her lips with his.

_The Great Hall, ten minutes later…_

"Where _are _they?" Ron stood up, looking over people's heads in search of his sister and his bloke best mate.

"Don't expect Harry and Ginny to come down any time soon." Seamus said slyly, sliding onto the bench beside Ron and Hermione.

Hermione grinned, "It's about time Harry got plucky—"

Neville cut in, "It wasn't Harry who initiated it, either."

Ron's face turned redder than his hair, "Pass me the toast, will you, Dean?"

Seamus sniggered, "Don't worry, Ron. Little sisters have to grow up _sometime_—"

Ron stabbed his eggs with his fork, "The bloody toast, Dean!"

Dean relinquished his hold on the toast platter and handed it to the redhead. "Sorry, Ron."

"Honestly, depriving a man of his toast…" Ron muttered.


	14. Ch 14: I feel the change

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's exclamations: Sorry for the delay! Here's the Christmas chapter! Thank you to everyone for their awesome reviews, as always! Enjoy! Read and review, please!

Chapter Fourteen: I feel the change

Seasons changing at Hogwarts was always more apparent than in the real world.

The obviously magical atmosphere aided this. The transition between autumn and winter was gradual. The foliage that transformed from green to shades of orange, red, and yellow had ceremoniously fallen to the ground. The crisp, shriveled leaves danced across the untouched white blankets of snow.

Seeing the castle on Christmas morning was like a display of a stolen greeting card. Christmas fell on a Saturday that year, much to the students' and professors' delight. Not that anyone would have conducted proper lessons, anyway, if it fell on a weekday. Disregarding Snape, since he seemed devoid of _any_ holiday cheer.

Mid-morning, the Gryffindor Trio plus Ginny met in Hermione's quarters to exchange gifts as they had every year. Meeting there was becoming routine for them. Hermione received Gilderoy Lockhart and Cornelius Fudge's second installment in their joint-autobiography series called _Twice Upon A Time We Were Insane Blokes_ from Harry, a live CD of The Clash from Ginny, and an autographed poster of The Postal Service from Ron. Ron got Chocolate Frogs from Ginny, a broomstick servicing kit from Harry, and a new pom pom-topped toboggan hat from Hermione that replaced the one he lost. Ginny received a book about The Beatles from Hermione, Sugar Quills from Ron, and a Jim Morrison t-shirt from Harry. Harry got a t-shirt that Hermione made that read John Lennon Poseur, broomstick supplies from Ron, and a live CD of The Beatles from Ginny.

Currently, Harry and Ginny were lying on their stomachs beside each other on Hermione's bed. They had finished flipping through Ginny's new book about The Beatles an hour ago. They had their arms around each other's waists.

"I'm bored." Ginny declared.

Harry frowned slightly, then grinned slyly, "I can think of ways to amuse you."

"_Really_." Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"I reckon you two should go to _your own _rooms to _amuse _yourselves," Hermione replied dryly.

Hermione and Ron were squished in one of the armchairs across from her bed. To make more room for both of them, Ron pulled Hermione into his lap. (How being _closerthanthis_ provides more breathing room for two people is beyond me…) Instinctively, Hermione turned sideways, draping her legs across Ron's lap and over the chair's arm. She slipped her arms around his middle, leaning her head on his chest. He pressed her even closer by coiling his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. He nudged her nose with his and kissed her softly.

Harry coughed loudly, "Perhaps it's _you two _who would prefer to be left alone to partake in _alternate_ recreational activities."

Ron commented to his best mate, "_Very _mature, Harry." He squeezed Hermione, "Could you hop up for a minute, love?"

"Sure." She shrugged, a look of slight confusion upon her face.

He crossed the room and threw the curtains open. Surprisingly, no one was outside on the grounds. "I know the perfect cure for your boredom, Gin."

"Don't tell me you're going to suggest that we have a snowball fight…" Ginny feigned weariness. "We do that _every _year."

"All the more reason to. It's a tradition." Ron replied.

Subtly, Harry poked Ginny's side. She squeaked and rolled into him. In retaliation, she wiggled her fingers in the crook of his neck. Within moments, hands were flying and the two were cackling like maniacs, scrambling over each other and rolling on the bed.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. He crossed the room again, scooping Hermione out of her seat and into his arms. He twirled her around a few times, laughing, before taking his seat again. He sat cross-legged in the chair with her perched on his knee.

"They're wrestling too much." Ron commented, curling his lip in disgust.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Honestly, Ron. We've had much worse tickle fights—"

"Followed by what?" He gave her a pointed look.

"Loads of snogging." She snickered, paused, and nodded with understanding, "_Oh_."

Triumphantly, Ginny pinned Harry down, straddling his stomach. Harry grabbed her arm, yanking her on top of him. He wiggled his eyebrows, brought his hands to her face. She leaned down and he sat up, meeting each other mid-way with their lips. She tangled her hands in his hair; his hands slipped down to her waist and held her close.

"Yeah. And while I'm glad they're happy now—ack." Ron shook his head.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, "_So GINNY_…"

Ginny pulled back slowly from Harry, straightening her clothes and scooting off him. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Today begs the essential girly question that neither of us would typically ask—what're you wearing to the Quasi-Yule Ball tonight?"

Dumbledore figured that the students would be more inclined to go to a ball if they could dress casually. Thus, he declared that a Quasi-Yule Ball would take place on Christmas night to encourage inter-House relations. Additionally, he wanted to prevent wild, drunken parties from going on in the various Houses. Parties the Weasley twins had been infamous for in their Hogwarts days. In his old age, Dumbledore wanted to enjoy life as much as possible. A random ball or two never harmed anyone.

"Clothes." Ginny shrugged, "I hadn't really given it much thought."

"Thank Merlin we don't have to wear dress robes…" Harry shuddered.

"Considering you're unsure of your sexuality, I reckon it's good you don't wear them too often, you poof." Ginny joked, kissing him quickly.

Harry rolled his eyes and began to insinuate, "That's not what you thought last night—"

"Oy! Best mate and older brother, present!" Ron yelped and shuddered, thoroughly disgusted. "I don't care if you're joking, but—ack!"

"And I may as well be your sister, Ginny and Harry…" Hermione added off-handedly.

"You more than likely will be my sister in the future." Ginny replied cheekily.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?!" Hermione asked indignantly.

Ron cleared his throat and said in an overly patronizing manner, "Hermione, my love, I think that my barmy sister is suggesting that you'll probably be her sister in the future. Through _marriage_."

Hermione blushed, but shot back, "So I'll be marrying George, then?" _Rubbish. There's only one person—no! I'm too young to commit to _someone _like that. _

"Naturally. Who'd you think I was meaning?" Ron forced a laugh. _Though if you married someone else—what the bloody hell?! Hermione is free to marry whoever she chooses. We're young! Why'd I even _think _of something like that?!_

Hermione got up and tugged on Ron's hand. "If we don't have a snowball fight, the least we should do is take a walk on the grounds."

Ginny nodded in agreement, "It _is _rather picturesque outside."

The blokes traded nonchalant looks.

"What _else _have we to do, anyway?" Harry shrugged.

_Outside, on the grounds_

"Look at them, Albus." Professor McGonagall nodded towards Gryffindor's two prominent couples.

Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore were sitting on a bench across from Gryffindor Tower. Holding hands, Ron and Hermione were strolling aimlessly, chatting and laughing. Harry pelted Ginny with a snowball, causing her to chase him, both of them giggling insanely.

Dumbledore smiled sagely, "Aren't you glad we intervened with the littlest Weasley and Harry?"

"Quite. Though, they _were _doing fine when we helped them along—"

Dumbledore waved a hand, "Miss Weasley has us to thank for her more-than-friends status with Harry."

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, "I suppose."

_Flashback_

Finally, the day had come.

The Hogsmeade weekend when Harry and Ginny would go on an actual date. Word about this event had traveled fast around the castle. _Coincidentally_, exponential amounts more students turned up for the trip to Hogsmeade than usual. Another unusual occurrence was Dumbledore's attendance to the day trip.

Harry and Ginny met in the Gryffindor Common Room. He offered her his arm, so she linked hers with his. Once in the village, they wandered around, window-shopping. When they came to Madame Puddifoot's restaurant, Ginny gave him a withering stare.

"You've _got _to be joking."

He grinned, "I am." He squeezed her hand that rested on his arm with his free hand.

Relieved, Ginny dropped her arm that was linked with Harry's and grabbed his hand instead. Their fingers entwined. He led her to a small café.

"I've never even seen this place before." Ginny commented.

"Ron told me about it, actually." Harry replied, glancing at the sign in the front of the café. "Says we're supposed to seat ourselves."

Meanwhile, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were seated in a remote corner of the café, hiding behind menus. Dumbledore glanced at a table by the windows and snapped his fingers together. Suddenly, a couple of lit candlesticks appeared on the table, as well as a bouquet of white roses. A placard materialized, as well.

Ginny raised her eyebrows curiously, "Self-seating, eh?" _He must've planned all of this. _"Then why is there a placard that says _Reserved: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley_?"

Harry shrugged, genuinely confused, "I haven't the slightest idea." He let go of her hand and pulled a chair out for her. He sat across from her. Both picked up their menus and began to scan them.

Professor McGonagall sneakily flicked her wand in Harry and Ginny's direction.

Harry blinked quickly. The words on his menu began rearranging themselves. _Feeling brave, Potter? It's about time you live up to your House's most prided trait! If you don't ask her to be your girlfriend soon, Ginny's going to give up on you. **Forever**. _He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he put his glasses back on, the menu listed the café's lunch specials.

Ginny gave him a curious look, "You alright, Harry?"

"Fine!" His voice cracked nervously. He swallowed, his voice dropping an octave to its normal range, "I mean—yes, Gin. I'm fine."

She nodded suspiciously. A gnome came by to take their order.

"I'll have roast beef sandwich and a cappuccino." Ginny handed the gnome her menu.

The gnome turned to Harry and asked gruffly, "And you?"

"Same." He replied quickly.

"It'll be out in a minute or two." The gnome took his menu and disappeared.

Dumbledore's face appeared in the candle flame in front of Harry. He winked. Harry broke into a sweat. _I'm going mad! I'm hallucinating!_

"Harry, are you _positive _you're alright? You look a bit faint." Ginny's brow furrowed in concern.

Harry averted his gaze from the candle flame and to Ginny. He blurted, "Ginny will you be my girlfriend?"

Her mouth twitched slightly, "Yeah."

"Yeah?" He took her hands in his.

She grinned, "What'd you _think _I was going to say?"

Across the room, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall congratulated themselves on successfully matchmaking the two Gryffindors.

_End flashback_

Suddenly, Hermione dropped Ron's hand. He looked at her quizzically. She beamed, outstretched her arms, and fell backwards into the pure blanket of snow.

"What the bloody—I mean, what in Merlin's beard are you _doing_?!" Ron stood by his girlfriend. "Surely you didn't _mean _to collapse backwards. Are you feeling ill?"

Hermione flapped her arms and legs in the snow, "I know you can be daft, Ron, but you _must _know what a snow angel is."

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm well aware of what a snow angel is. I just haven't heard of crumpling abruptly on the ground."

She rolled her eyes, "It's all part of the technique."

"The _technique_?" He narrowed his eyes at her skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm also ignorant to the _techniques _that go into snow angel-making."

"I'll enlighten you, then."

"I knew you would."

She threw him a wary look, still flapping her arms and legs on the ground, "You fall backwards to minimize the amount of footsteps made by the snow angel."

"I see." He nodded, comprehending, stroking his newly shaved chin.

She sat up, dusting herself off. He walked in front of her, took her hands in his and swiftly lifted her up, catching her in his arms.

Hermione snorted, "Always the gentleman." She threw her arms around his shoulders.

"I was helping you minimize footsteps." Ron said suavely. "Y'know, making the snow angel reflect her maker. Flawless, disregarding the giant footsteps a couple feet in front of her."

Her expression softened, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He replied with a lopsided grin.

She bit her lip. "The angel would rather there be giant footsteps in front of her. The scene would be quite incomplete without them."

He looked at his feet sheepishly, "I see..."

She brushed his fringe out of his eyes. "You can put me down, if you'd like. I know I get heavy." She poked the pom-pom on the hat she knitted him.

"Oh yes, Hermione Granger, the heftiest girl ever." Ron responded sarcastically. A devilish smirk stretched across his lips. He muttered, "Hold on tight."

"Wh—eeeeeeeeek!"

Before Hermione could even finish her question, she shrieked as Ron sprinted towards the castle. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, burying her head in his shoulder so that the cold wind didn't sting her cheeks. He held her tightly in his strong arms.

Rising from the bench across from Gryffindor Tower, Dumbledore observed, "One would notice that their position now is a bit symbolic of their relationship."

Professor McGonagall brushed snow off her cloak. "Clinging onto each other for dear life? I agree."

_The Great Hall, that night…_

The walls of the Hall were covered in glittery silver frost. Hundreds of garlands of entwined ivy and mistletoe crossed the dark black ceiling. A dance floor had been constructed in the middle of the hall. Around the dance floor's perimeter, smaller circular tables replaced the long House tables that were usually present.

Though the Quasi-Yule Ball began at eight o'clock, but students were permitted to arrive up to a half-hour late. By the time Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny arrived, the party was going strong. The dance floor was packed with students. Apparently, hardly anyone went home for Christmas this year.

"Food or dancing, first?" Ron asked Hermione as they strolled into the Hall, arms around each other's waists.

Hermione's eyes bulged. She brought the back of her free hand to his forehead, "You must be ill!"

"Why?" He frowned, "I look wretched, don't I—"

She interrupted, "Ron Weasley, you just asked me if I preferred to eat or dance first. You actually considered _dancing _before consuming large quantities of food." Her mouth was still slightly agape.

He rolled his eyes, then responded smoothly, "You can make me do anything. Even forget my stomach and put _dancing _ahead of it on my priority list."

They gazed into each other's eyes for three seconds before bursting out into laughter.

"Sorry, that was my attempt at being suave." He brought his arm up to her shoulders and rubbed her arm.

"_Attempt _being the keyword." She replied, but leaned closer to him anyway.

He raised an eyebrow, "Might I add that you're inching towards me, so it _must _mean that my charm is working."

"Oh yes, I'm feeling faint at the very mention of it." She rolled her eyes.

Harry and Ginny abandoned them to immediately get to the dance floor. Ron and Hermione exchanged amused expressions. Harry wore his new gray John Lennon Poseur t-shirt with tight jeans and his random sneakers. Ginny sported her hair in natural waves, her new tiny white Jim Morrison t-shirt, black pants, and white spiked heels.

Ron began, "Have I told you lately—"

"—that I love you." Hermione tittered, impulsively finishing the lyric.

_No, though I do feel it. I don't want to be the first to tell you so, though. _"That you already knew," He stated off-handedly. "What I was _going _to say was, have I told you lately that you are absolutely ravishing?"

"No." She gave him a strange look, "Why the sudden need to be so charismatic, Ronald? You're bordering incessant sycophant behavior, almost."

"Do you hate it?" He tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

Ron had thrown on his blue Hands Down t-shirt, snug corduroys, and sneakers. Hermione wore her hair down, a small black t-shirt with a sunflower in the center, low-slung jeans, and black ballet flats.

Ignoring his question, she went on, "And did you just say—" She paused, "Never mind." _He didn't actually mean he loved me, did he?_

"What?" Ron stopped walking. He stood in front of her, cupping her face with his hands, "What is it?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Hermione shook her head, avoiding his gaze. She forced a smile, "Forget I even started saying something." She added with a genuine grin, "Did I mention how dashing you look?"

Hermione slipped her arms around Ron's neck.

Ron feigned insecurity, "Not lately—that _must_ mean you're up to something."

She hit his arm playfully. "The only thing I'm plotting is how to get you on the dance floor."

"As I recall, _I _was the one who suggested it in the first place." He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. After kissing her forehead, he hastily kissed her neck. His hands dropped from her face. She took the hand he offered.

Finding anywhere to dance on the dance floor was relatively impossible. A loud trance beat was blaring from charmed speakers. Hermione and Ron squeezed by Seamus and Lavender. They raised their eyebrows at the latter non-couple. Seamus was grinding his hips to meet Lavender's shaking bum.

Ron and Hermione snickered.

"I'm not up for dirty dancing." Ron glanced at Neville and Luna whose dancing was a la Seamus and Lavender.

"Neither am I. I'm rubbish at it, anyway." Hermione threw her arms around his neck.

He closed the space between their bodies by wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his hands in the small of her back. As they swayed slowly, he raised an eyebrow, "You've tried before?"

She flipped her hair insolently, "Maybe."

Frank Sinatra's "Let's Fall In Love" followed the pounding trance beat.

"I love this song." They sighed simultaneously. They looked at each other, surprised, then laughed.

Suddenly, Ron took one of Hermione's hands in his and transferred her other arm to his shoulder. He led her in swing dancing at an easy pace. They laughed, tripping over their grinding contemporaries.

"Sinatra would be rolling in his grave…" Hermione commented.

_We might have been meant for each other_

_To be or not to be_

_Let our hearts discover_

Everyone said they were meant for each other. In ways, Ron and Hermione were complete opposites. She was the brilliant, organized, an only child, and the academically perfect Head Girl. He was the disorganized, sarcastic, fifth of seven children, and a former Prefect by default. They bickered for years before realizing that every row they had was pointless.

As the years went by, they grew to be best mates. They were the only people, besides Harry himself, who knew the ordeals he had to go through in the past regarding Dark Wizards. It was as Dumbledore said; even before they had a romantic relationship, they clung to each other for support.

_I have a feeling, it's a feeling,  
I'm concealing, I don't know why  
It's just a mental, sentimental alibi_

Moments before, on the way to the dance floor, both figuratively slipped. They constantly created reasons why they wouldn't openly discuss their feelings about each other. They were aware that they fancied each other. But to thoroughly discuss the extent of their fancying? That was something neither was courageous enough to do.

_But I adore you  
So strong for you  
Why go on stalling  
I am falling  
Love is calling  
Why be shy?_

Then again, it made perfect sense. Ron and Hermione were the kind of couple whose relationship was combustible, yet resilient. Unlike people they knew, they didn't need three tiny words to strengthen it. Their actions clearly expressed how they felt for each other; to them, saying, "I love you" would be redundant. Besides, they were sixteen and seventeen-years-old. The prospect of falling in love as a teenager was utter nonsense. Supposedly.

_Let's fall in love  
Why shouldn't we fall in love?  
Our hearts are made of it  
Let's take a chance  
Why be afraid of it?_

"Hermione."

"Yes?" She looked up, meeting his smoldering gaze.

"Have you ever—" His voice trailed off and his eyes averted away from her, "Never mind."

"What were you going to say?" She turned his face toward her with both hands.

"It's silly, really." He stared at their feet.

"Go on. Ask away." She prodded.

"Do you think it's possible to be sixteen or seventeen and fall in love?" He blushed.

"Um. I suppose, it depends on the people. I mean, if they're more emotionally mature, then I guess they could?" Her brow furrowed as her hands slid from his face to his shoulder and his hand again, "I'm not really sure. It's never happened to me before…"

He nodded, bringing her closer to him so their bodies were flush against each other. "It hasn't happened to me before, either."

_Let's close our eyes and make our own paradise  
Little we know of it, still we can try  
To make a go of it_

Ron half-closed his eyes and dipped his face low. He leaned toward Hermione and deliberately nipped her lip.

"Ron!" Hermione squeaked, "We're in public! At school! I'm Head Girl!"

"Really! I wasn't aware of any of those things." He raised an eyebrow. "However, you've overlooked the fact that there's loads of mistletoe entwined with the garlands of ivy, which are hung all around this Hall."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You've thought about this."

"A bit." He grinned roguishly, "I can always blame snogging you, thus rendering you useless on the mistletoe."

"I am _not _useless after you snog me!" She cried indignantly.

_Now, we might have been meant for each other  
To be or not be  
Let our hearts discover_

"Oh really…" He raised both eyebrows. "Perhaps I should perform a little test…"

"I'd rather you not. It's quite embarrassing, what with all of the professors and Dumbledore around." She pouted.

_Let's fall in love  
Why shouldn't we fall in love?  
Now is the time for it, while we are young  
Let's fall in love _

"You're only young once," Ron stated.

"I'd like to enjoy the rest of my youth by not being stripped of my Head Girl title for snogging my boyfriend at a school function." Hermione snapped.

"But we do everywhere else—"

She shot him an icy glare.

"Okay, shutting up now." He sighed dramatically.

_We might have been meant for each other  
To be or not be  
Let our hearts discover_

_Let's fall in love  
Why shouldn't we fall in love?  
Now is the time for it, while we are young_

_Let's fall in love _

_Let's fall in love_

_Let's fall in love_

_Let's fall in love_

Suddenly, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall appeared beside Ron and Hermione.

"Go on, Ron. Sneak away and kiss her. We have gone temporarily blind." Dumbledore gave the couple a wink as Professor McGonagall steered him towards Seamus and Lavender, who had progressed to dry humping in the corner of the dance floor.

"You heard the man." Ron leered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. They stopped dancing and crept off the dance floor to the entrance of the Great Hall. The tables were deserted; it seemed everyone was on the dance floor, professors included.

Pointing upward, Ron smirked, "You see? The obligatory mistletoe."

"How'd we miss that upon entering?" She asked, squeezing his hands.

"Seriously. I overlooked a valid excuse for me to kiss you when it's usually taboo in the circumstance." He shook his head, "I'm losing it."

Hermione tiptoed, and whispered before meeting his lips with hers, "I have evidence of the contrary."

Their kiss was gentle. Both were savoring every moment. Their lips joined over and over, finding a rhythm. Finally, they parted due to lack of oxygen.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione." Ron said breathlessly, leaning his forehead on hers, swallowing slowly.

"Happy Christmas, Ron." Hermione bit her lip shyly, glancing at the dance floor again. Dumbledore gave her another hearty wink. "Dumbledore winked again."

"Merlin knows no one should disobey the Headmaster…especially the Head Girl." His eyes lit up.

Laughing softly, they defined the word "obedience" with their actions.

Author's ramblings: How'd that go? I'm writing one more chapter and the epilogue. It's been great writing this fic. (But it's not over yet! Hehe.) Please tell me what you thought! Read and review, my dear readers! You know you want to... Besides, you know that reviews fuel my writing process and make my day. :)


	15. Ch 15: My darling

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's ramblings: And so, my dear readers, this is the last chapter. (But not really, since there's an epilogue to follow.) I'm terribly sorry it's taken so long. I had to go to the hospital on New Year's Eve, and this week, I got another stomach virus. Blah. However, in my respite at home, I've concocted quite a sappy/fluffy ending that's a slight departure from the other chapter, but it's hopefully to your liking.

A heart-felt thank you: to everyone who has kept up with this fic, reading or reviewing or both. Each and every one of you is fantastic! Please enjoy! And review, as always!

Chapter Fifteen: My darling

Following the Quasi-Yule Ball, the remainder of Christmas holiday flew by more quickly than in years past. Even after lessons had been conducted for several weeks, both students and professors struggled to find some semblance of routine.

It was a Tuesday. For some reason unbeknownst to Ron, Hermione had been acting strangely towards him for the past few days. He noted that she seemed distant, shrugged away from him when he slinked his arm around her waist or turned at the last possible second when he leaned in to kiss her so that his lips grazed her cheek instead. Her actions thoroughly puzzled him. He confided in Harry about Hermione that night in the seventh year boys' dormitory. Seamus, Dean, and Neville had drifted off to sleep a half-hour before. Ron confirmed this when he heard Seamus' muttering about green cows, Dean's restless tossing and turning, as well as Neville's raucous snoring.

"Do you reckon she's…angry with me?" Ron asked, rolling onto his stomach with his head at the foot of his bed.

Harry moved to the foot of his bed to see Ron better. The black-haired bloke rolled his eyes, "I'd reckon so. And this is coming from the bloke who's hopeless with girls."

The ginger-haired bloke shrugged, "Who _else _have I to ask? Our other mates don't exactly have the same type of relationships that we have."

Harry nodded, "I agree. But really, Ron, if there were anyone who would know what's wrong with Hermione, it'd be you. You know her better than anyone else does."

The corner of Ron's mouth turned upward in an almost wistful smile, "True. But you and Gin never seem to have communication problems."

Harry guffawed loudly, "I beg to differ! Mate, have you become an amnesiac?! For _months_, the barmy girl thought I was a poof!"

Ron snickered, "Well, besides _that_. After you started dating, the only rows you two have is about Quidditch teams. And Merlin knows that neither of you is going budge on favorite teams _or _technique." He sighed exaggeratedly, "It's not as though I can _ask _her about it, because every time I try to get close to her at _all_, she sneaks away."

Harry threw his arms up in exasperation. "You two haven't had a _real_ row in ages! This doesn't qualify as one. You've got nothing to be tetchy about. This too shall pass." He crawled to the proper side of his bed and under the covers, flicking his wand to draw the hangings around his bed shut.

"I suppose." Ron followed the suit and effectively induced sleep.

_Wednesday evening, in Hermione's room_

Hermione sat hunched over her desk, scribbling furiously on a ridiculously long piece of parchment. Dipping her quill in her inkwell, she reached the bottom of the parchment. She crossed the last t's and dotted a couple of i's, then punctuated the concluding sentence properly. Smiling triumphantly, she blew on the essay, and then cast a quick-drying spell on it.

Rising from her seat in front of her desk, Hermione stretched, putting her hands on her hips and leaning backward. She glanced at the clock across the room. 9:30 P.M. She grinned. This had to be a record of some kind! She was finished with her assignments well before midnight! With her course load, this called for celebration!

Unconsciously, Hermione's hand flew up to the locket Ron gave her on her birthday. She ran her thumb over it before flicking the locket open. She studied the photograph with a sigh. Lately, she hadn't been herself with Ron. Her behavior was beyond strange, considering he was just as wonderful, if not more so, than ever. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to tell her what had been vexing her.

While she had hoped for it, the thing Hermione secretly wished for hadn't happened—even after her and Ron's conversations during the Quasi-Yule Ball. Granted, she and Ron weren't the typical adolescent couple. Their relationship had for years been painstakingly constructed, supported by conversations that lasted hours and spending time together. It wasn't a perpetuated impulse of lust.

Though she was the brightest witch of her year, the only concept that completely puzzled Hermione was something that countless others seemed to have figured out.

Love.

It was impossible for Hermione to look around her room without being constantly reminded of Ron. In addition to her locket, there were other framed photographs of the two of them, the Trio, and the Trio plus Ginny. The mixed CD that he had Fred burn for her was currently in her transfigured CD player on the floor, and the various CDs they exchanged were in a stack adjacent to it. A bouquet of daisies that they chose from Professor Sprout's greenhouse was sitting in a blue vase on her bureau. A couple of months ago during a legitimate study session, he left his blue jumper in her room. It was her favorite of his jumpers (it made his eyes look even bluer than usual), and he decided to feign forgetfulness—not a difficult feat for Ron—and let her keep it.

Commencement was at the end of the term. Naively, Hermione assumed that she and Ron would forevermore continue to have the wonderful relationship that they currently had. Yet was she right in assuming so? Their relationship had always been a mere step above friendship. Would leaving Hogwarts make it step back down to _just_ best mates? Shaking her head, Hermione crossed the room and sat on her bed. It would be _extremely_ difficult to make the transition back to only being best mates. She needed reassurance of _some _kind. Preferably in the form of a declaration. Mind you, it needn't be an _extravagant _one but…

Admittedly, they weren't the stereotypical adolescent couple who celebrated every month's anniversary, could be found engaging in rated R public displays of affection in the corridors between classes, or tried one-upmanship in games of "I fancy you more". But _sometimes_, Hermione wondered if it would be so bad to be. Actually, now that she thought about it, she had the ideal boyfriend. He balanced her perfectionism and sometimes-neurotic tendencies with his more-than-relaxed attitude and sarcasm. He was thoughtful and subtly romantic. They wittily bantered—they could have conversations about everything and nothing, they had each other's idiosyncrasies memorized, and still felt that proverbial spark whenever they kissed. There was never a dull moment between them.

Suddenly, Hermione gripped her locket with conviction. So what if Ron wasn't an emo band songwriter! He had proven numerous times to her that his emotional range was well beyond that of a teaspoon. She knew he could be romantic. Yet she couldn't help but contemplate why he hadn't done the simplest of all romantic gestures. Knowing him, she figured that he would think it redundant to tell her how he felt. A tiny, illogical voice in the back of her head taunted her. _Maybe he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do him… _

Her stomach rumbled. All of this over-analyzing her situation made her famished. She opened the drawer of her nightstand and saw that the sweets she and Ron purchased the week before in Hogsmeade were gone. Bouncing off her bed, she threw a cardigan over her t-shirt and changed out of her pajama pants and into some jeans. Pulling her shoes on, she began her quest for food in the Gryffindor Common Room. Surely someone had to have sweets _there_. Maybe _her _redheaded "someone" had been holding out on her and would share part of his hidden stash.

_Five minutes later, in the Gryffindor Common Room_

"Checkmate!" Harry yelled triumphantly, jumping up from his seat.

All activity in the room came to a screeching halt.

Ron sputtered, pushing his chair back from the table, "Impossible!"

The silence was broken by the Gryffindors began chattering excitedly. Ron Weasley's undefeated reign of glory (discounting when he allowed Hermione to win while she was sick during summer holiday at The Burrow) was legendary, in his House as well as around Hogwarts. If his best bloke mate, The Boy Who Lived Yet Was Shite at Chess, had beaten him, he would forever be shamed. His legacy would be ruined. In the midst of the growing buzz of the Gryffindors' whispers, Hermione came through the portrait hole.

"What's going on? Why is everyone huddled in groups and whispering?" Hermione asked the entire room.

Seamus was the first to answer, his Irish brogue distinct, "Looks like Harry's beaten Ron at Wizard's Chess!"

"You're _joking_…" Her jaw dropped in shock. "_Surely_ there's some mistake…"

Ron leapt from his seat and began pacing in front of the board. He ignored Harry, who was currently doing a spastic victory dance of sorts.

Harry began chanting in the tune of the Conga line song, "I beat Ron at che-ess! I beat Ron at che-ess!" His victory dance transformed into a Conga. Seamus was the first to join Harry, standing behind the black-haired bloke and putting his hands on the latter's shoulders. Immediately, Gryffindors left their seats or corners of the Common Room to join the chanting line.

The chant changed into, "Ron got beat at che-ess!" The students would go three steps, then throw out a leg, repeat the movement and throw out the opposite leg.

Meanwhile, Ron's face contorted in confusion. He gaped at the chessboard, almost on the verge of tears. Hermione glanced from the growing Conga line of Gryffindors to Ron, and back again. She approached her shell-shocked boyfriend, who couldn't stop gawking at the chessboard. His hand flew to his forehead and he started blinking rapidly.

"Ron." Hermione cleared her throat tentatively.

He slowly turned to her, "'lo, Hermione."

Unceremoniously, she turned sideways and dropped into his lap. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and encircled her waist with his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and firmly placed a kiss on his cheek, "I won't tell you it's a silly game, because Merlin knows, it's not. Especially to you. So instead, I'll indulge your rationale that he cheated or what have you."

Hermione placed a finger under Ron's chin and pushed it closed. Slowly, his lips stretched into that lazy smile of his. "Thanks."

"Wouldn't want you catching flies." She replied cheekily.

He snorted, "Not for closing my mouth. I could've done that myself." He paused, "But for humoring me."

"No need to be melodramatic, Ron. I know you."

He nodded. "Yeah, you do." He sighed as she rested her forehead on his. "Although, I must say…if losing chess is what'll get you to come around from a blah mood, then—"

She interrupted, "Sorry for being so—aloof lately. I've had a lot of things on my mind."

He shrugged, "'s okay. Well, no it wasn't, because you _know _how I get Hermione withdrawal, but you're here now, and—"

She snickered.

"I'm going to stop before I say anything too clichéd or disgustingly, uncharacteristically cute that'll make us both want to vomit." Ron cupped Hermione's face with one of his hands, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He leaned in, properly kissed her—for the first time in days—and inwardly, he sighed as soon as their lips touched, the familiar warmth spreading over his body. Instantly, he forgot about the chanting that advertised his defeat and a long line of his housemates snaking around the Common Room.

_The next day, Double History of Magic_

The Trio sat on the second table from the back. Harry was on the end, Ron was in the middle, and Hermione was by the aisle since she was shortest and insisted that she needed to see their instructor properly. Harry could scarcely believe it. It was the new term, and Ron continued to adhere to his studying resolutions! He was actually _awake_. In the most boring class known to wizards! Harry could attest that no Muggle teacher could _possibly _make things like bloody ogre revolutions as uninteresting as Professor Binns. Harry's best bloke mate was slouched over his seat, dutifully taking notes on a piece of parchment. The redhead dipped his quill in his inkwell before scrawling another sentence.

Even Hermione had to keep pinching herself from falling asleep. Ron glanced at her every once in awhile. Seeing her hand collapse, leaving a trail of scribbles on her piece parchment. He tapped her hand and scrawled a note in the margin:

**I'll take notes for you, if you'd like. **

Hermione snapped awake and replied:

_That's not necessary, Ron. I can take notes for myself. I've been doing it for the past seven years, after all. But thank you for the offer._

He rolled his eyes.

**Honestly, Hermione, it wouldn't be a problem. You've only let me borrow your notes three million and fifty-two times! It's only fair.**

She sighed resignedly.

_I suppose you're right. You know, I hate it when you're right._

He grinned.

**Off to sleep, you go! **

For the remainder of the lesson, Hermione propped her chin up on her hand, hiding her closed eyes behind her bushy hair and held her quill poised on her piece of parchment. Ron looked at Hermione's now-subtly sleeping form. He gently tugged the quill out of her hand, tossed it into her bag, and placed his hand atop it instead. While taking notes, he covertly slipped his hand into hers and drew circles on her palm with his thumb. An almost inaudible sigh exited her pursed lips; causing him to press his lips together firmly from beaming like a fool. How did this girl, his best girl mate, become the woman who he was mad about?

And there it was. The question that made Ron have to consider something he tended to evade at all costs.

His emotions.

More specifically, the way he felt about Hermione. The words were so trite that he _had_ to smother a laugh. Like an automaton, he scribbled notes from the longest lecture of the seventh years' lives, yet he continued to contemplate this. Ever since he and Harry saved her from the troll during their first year at Hogwarts, all three had forged a bond. He knew the natural progression he and Hermione's friendship took, since Harry tended to retreat into himself whenever the world's problems came crashing down on him. The summer holidays were, quite possibly, the best Ron had ever had.

His thoughts flew onto the random tangent of his dormitory. While they didn't spend much time there, the room still held evidence that Hermione was an integral part of his life. The countless framed photographs of her were on his nightstand and trunk, as well as hanging on the wall. The gifts she gave him were in his trunk or on it. For some reason, he kept the detention slip that he received after punching Malfoy, who still pursued Hermione after her birthday. He knew that presently, her original copy of _Hogwarts, a History _was on his bed, since she had left it there at the start of last term. Wherever he looked, he was constantly reminded of her. But was that…?

Then, of course, there was the issue of Commencement. Perhaps _that _was what had been so irksome to her. While she was naturally high-strung, Hermione went into full-neurotic mode when it came to speech preparing and the like. Ever since she walked into Hogwarts, she was destined to become valedictorian. But Hermione had always handled pressure well. Not to say she didn't become positively nutters when it came to academics and such. She hadn't mentioned it, however, and she typically ranted about stress to him and anyone within a meter-radius.

Suddenly, another idea dawned on him. _Maybe_, she was preoccupied with what would happen to them post-Hogwarts. Ron never really gave this a considerable amount of thought. Idealistically, he figured that he and Hermione would always be together. They'd continue being each other's boyfriend and girlfriend, eventually get engaged, and then marry and have loads of children. He paused. But what if she didn't want any of that? What if, as soon as they left Hogwarts, she found a man who suited her better than he ever could?! _Impossible, there's no one better suited for Hermione than me! _

"Ron!" Harry tapped the redhead beside him, "Lessons are over! We're going to head to the Great Hall for dinner. Actually, you and Hermione are. I'm meeting Ginny by the dungeons, since she had Potions."

Ron nodded, collecting his things and throwing them into his bag. Hermione had woken up and was doing the same. "Right, see you and Gin in the Great Hall, then."

_The next morning, The Great Hall _

Hermione dragged herself into the Hall and collapsed into her usual seat at the Gryffindor table next to Ron. Her face was flushed, and she hurriedly swept her hair into a messy bun. Ron slid a plate of her usual breakfast and a goblet of pumpkin juice in front of her.

"Thanks, Ron." She kissed him quickly, but soundly.

After she pulled back, a silly grin took over his face. "Don't think you're getting away with _that_—" He leaned down and was a millimeter away, when the entire table began protesting.

"I'm about to lose me breakfast!" Seamus pantomimed hacking, but pulled Lavender closer to his side. Lavender whispered something into his ear, giggling, then pulling him up. They scurried away from the table.

"If you're going to snog, find somewhere less public to do it. Y'know, like Seamus and Lavender, the randy gits…" Neville rolled his eyes and squeezed Luna's hand.

Luna said airily, "Then again, it's rather _exciting _to do things at the risk of being seen, right, Neville?"

Neville blushed furiously.

"I agree, mates." Dean said through a couple bites of toast.

"Dean, _please _refrain from talking with your mouth full of food!" Parvati scolded.

"Sorry, dear." His head hung dejectedly. She patted his head and kissed his cheek for consolation.

Harry and Ginny shook their heads. Harry added, "Then again, it's nice to see you two being as sickening as you always were."

"Quite." Ginny grabbed the last muffin, broke it in half, and shared it with Harry.

Ron ignored his housemates' protests and closed the distance between his and Hermione's mouths. Their mouths melded together, fluidly—no awkward teeth clashing or bumping of noses.

Hermione was the first to break away, "Mr. Weasley, you're preventing me from eating the breakfast you so thoughtfully saved for me."

"My mistake, Miss Granger." He dropped one last kiss on the back of her hand before letting her eat in peace.

Ron cocked his head to the side as his girlfriend ate. He was oblivious to the gagging and exasperated sighs of his contemporaries. He imagined Hermione and him living in a flat near the Ministry. He'd make breakfast for her every morning, as he had during the summer. She'd only be permitted to help by using magic. He could see it clearly—she'd stumble from their bedroom wearing one of his old Cannons t-shirts that'd be ridiculously long on her. She'd groggily make her way to the tiny kitchen and greet him good morning. He'd kiss her—after an anti-morning breath charm or two—and give her _The Daily Prophet _to read, since Ginny would be editor by then and it would become a respectable newspaper once more. He smiled to himself.

"Knut for your thoughts?" She asked, jarring him from his reverie.

"Oh, nothing." He kissed her forehead gently.

She raised an eyebrow, "Okay…"

_That night, Gryffindor Common Room_

After his ego-destroying defeat, Ron temporarily gave Ginny his beloved chess set. She was currently playing (and beating) Harry by the fireplace. Since it was a typical Thursday night, nothing extraordinary had occurred. The various Gryffindor couples were scattered around the room, the younger students in study circles and the older ones pursuing activities of leisure. Ron and Hermione were occupying a squashy couch and doing their assignments. Actually, Hermione was a few days ahead and had taken the liberty of proofreading Ron's Potions essay. She sat at one end of the couch with her feet in his lap. He was studying for the Potions test that was in a couple of days, when the essay was due as well.

"Surprisingly, I only found one split-infinitive." Hermione smiled, clearly impressed.

"Blimey! The world must be coming to an end! I, Ron Weasley, had _no _inaccurate facts and only _one _grammatical error on a _Potions _essay!" Ron reached over and pulled Hermione into his lap, throwing his Potions book aside. She laughed, throwing an arm around his neck. He held her free hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

"I'm a good influence on you." She sniffed snootily.

"Bloody right, you are." He paused, "Can I ask you something?"

"It depends on what it is." She turned sideways to better see his face.

He squeezed her hand, "Why were you aloof with me for a few days?"

"Oh, I dunno…" She blushed deeply, staring at their hands.

He continued looking at her. "Hermione, please look at me."

Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to his. "Done. Now what?"

Ron took a deep breath, "I think I figured out what it was that made you distant. It's the prospect of the term ending and whether or not we'll be together afterwards. Honestly, it never crossed my mind as an issue since I assumed we'd always have each other—"

Hermione interrupted, "I did, too! But I wasn't sure if—"

"—as we are now, in a relationship. There's no chance in hell that'd I'd ever go back to only being your best mate who's a bloke. But then, you probably didn't know that. Although, I thought you did seeing as how we are. We're not the…" He waved a hand, as though to grab the phrase he was searching for from the air.

She supplied the phrase, "…stereotypical adolescent couple."

"Yeah. We've always been a bit less forthright about how we…are. We're the couple who doesn't _need _to say it. But I—"

She bit her lip, suppressing a squeal, "—want to say it?"

"Yes." Ron's blue eyes penetrating her brown eyes, "I love when your hair's wild like you've been thoroughly snogged, or up in a bun and I can tuck that _one _errant curl behind your ear. I love that your brow furrows whenever you're concentrating on a text or a particularly hard Arithmancy problem. I love that I can make you burst into that infectious laugh of yours. I love that your doe-like brown eyes do the darting thing when I slowly lean in to kiss you, because you're anticipating it. I love how you're secretively romantic and are more for actions, rather than words. I love the way your eyes could weaken me to do _anything_." He leaned closer to her.

Hermione's brown eyes darted from his eyes to his lips.

"I love that you're the most bloody brilliant witch I know, and yet you're so daft when it comes to knowing how beautiful you are. I love that you've introduced me to all kinds of Muggle music and are a bloody good guitar player—better than I'll ever be. I love that though you're completely capable of taking care of yourself, you let me feel like I can protect you. I love how you could make a potato sack look like a gorgeous evening gown. I love the way your tiny hands fit perfectly with my awkwardly big ones."

She squeezed his hand.

"I love your endearing obsession with schoolwork and the constant fear of making a 99 percent, even if that's never a threat—although, I've influenced you in that you're not quite as bad about it anymore. I love the way we're like puzzle pieces when we dance, or even hug. I love how you get irrational and assume crazy things about me that you know aren't true, since it's all too amusing." He inhaled deeply, "I love _you_, Hermione. Everything about you, and you shouldn't worry about the future, since it's not even here yet. _But_, when it comes, I'd like to think that you'd still be with me. After all, I'm hopelessly and quite in love with you—not unexplainably, as you could tell—and the only way I figure that we'd be apart is if you wanted to be."

Hermione sighed happily. "You're not quite as clueless as I always make you out to be."

"I try." He paused, but she interrupted him before he could go on.

Hermione shifted in his lap to get closer to him. "I love your long fringe that gives you a bit of a Beatle look—it contrasts with your bright blue eyes, which make me melt into a tiny Hermione puddle whenever you look at me _that _way. I love how you're devilishly handsome and you're only half-aware. I love the way your sarcastic remarks and insinuations never fail to make me laugh—except when we first got together, but that's beside the point. I love that you have no idea how brilliant you are, because you're too humble and convinced that you're Harry Potter's sidekick and the Head Girl's boyfriend—yet you're well aware of how great you are at chess—"

He sighed, defeated.

"—although, I still maintain that Harry cheated the other day."

He smiled and tweaked her nose.

"I love that you pretend not to be romantic, yet you are—all the time, with your uncanny memory for our conversations and every little thing you do for me as a result of them, as well as the other things you do like taking care of me when I was ill. I love how you're protective, but not possessive, and hilarious when you get jealous for no apparent reason. I love that you've improved your study habits because of me, and been consistent with them. I love the way you make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world—"

He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips.

"—though it's a complete fallacy, you'll start a row because of it. I love that you're not self-conscious about doing silly things like dancing in the rain with me, or dancing with me anytime, really. I love your rough hands, calloused from too much Quidditch—which is your crazy obsession—and attempting to play guitar. I love that you _deliberately _fail at being coy when wanting to snog, and instead, tickle me so that we fall into a heap and laugh and end up snogging. I love the way we'll never run out of things to talk about." She gulped, "I love you, too, Ron. I can barely imagine a time when we _weren't _together—"

"That's because you two _have _been unconsciously together since fourth year, or possibly even first." Harry quipped cheekily.

Hermione rolled her eyes, then turned to Ron again, "—and though we _are _an actions-above-words couple, it makes me even _more _madly in love with you than I already am. You'd be a prat to think _I'd _want us to be apart. Because, quite frankly, I don't fancy being without the boy I've grown up with and grown to love. Or perhaps I always did, as Harry likes to think."

Cheers erupted from the other Gryffindors in the Common Room. Ron and Hermione laughed, wondering how they missed the slight fact that their entire House had been listening to their declarations of love. Yet, for once, their housemates' eavesdropping that didn't matter. All they knew was that they were a teenaged couple that happened to have the idyllic relationship. Oh yes, and that there was nothing more they wanted to do than to kiss each other. As their lips met, they validated what they explicated for each other. For some reason, all they knew was each other. And that was enough.

The End

Author's questions: How'd that go? I have several ideas for the epilogue, and I'd like you guys to decide what it's going to be about. So. I've got a Commencement scenario, a proposal, a wedding, and an already married story line. Any suggestions or things you'd like to see in the epilogue? And, would you like a SHORT—I repeat, short—sequel? About, five or so chapters? Thank you so much, once again! Please review and tell me what you thought!


	16. Epilogue: I can't get enough of your lov...

All I Know

By Stargirl

Author's note: I'm a horrible person for not updating sooner. Life has been so incredibly insane. My birthday's on Thursday and it's come almost as a complete surprise. Thank you _so much _to everyone who's reviewed! Hope you enjoy it, and that the wait's been worth it!

Epilogue: I can't get enough of your love, babe

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had never seen more perfect weather than presently. Rays of sunlight cascaded over the grounds, the castle gleaming golden. There was a sense that summer was approaching, yet couldn't come fast enough.

Inside the castle, agitation existed that exceeded the nagging feeling that the summer holidays were approaching.

In her quarters, Hermione paced back and forth, haphazardly throwing scraps of parchment about. She was muttering to herself, going over the words that she had written a month before. She repeated them, stopping to consider the nuances she put into each phrase. She practiced her facial expressions as she went.

KNOCK-KNOCK!

Still frantically scurrying back and forth in front of her desk while mumbling, Ron, Harry, and Ginny threw open the door and tumbled into Hermione's room.

"It's your Co—" Ginny began to shout, but paused abruptly, seeing her friend's current state. "Hermione, are you feeling _ill_?"

Ron strode across the room to his girlfriend. Gently, he grasped her elbow to stop the pacing, "Hermione Jane Granger, Valedictorian and Head Girl for our year, what in Merlin's bloody beard are you doing darting about your room!"

Hermione swallowed nervously, her face pale. She began rambling with fragmented exclamations, "It's—it's our Commencement! Today! One of the milestones! That we'll always remember! I don't want to botch it! Ruin the day for everyone else because—I'm! I'm a bit nervous! About my speech!"

Ron rolled his eyes and placed his hands on her waist. "Fancy that." Quickly, he kissed her forehead and went on drolly, "You've only rehearsed it five trillion, seven billion and four times. I mean, as unprepared as you are, I'd reckon you'd be nervous."

Harry and Ginny sniggered.

Ron leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers, "Not to mention, you're incapable at handling pressure. I mean—a professor calls on you during lessons while Harry and I had been distracting you with something or other, and you _never _know what the answer is. Usually, you can't even recall the _question _being asked!"

Hermione's brow furrowed. She forced a frown, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Then, during examination time, you're a hopeless case! You're constantly cramming because you haven't organized and rewritten _all _of your notes—"

"Okay, Ron! I get the point!" Hermione interrupted, obviously irritated. She uncrossed her arms and looped them around her boyfriend's neck, still nose-to-nose with him, "I'll try to relax."

"As you should." Hastily, Ron kissed the tip of her nose.

"Weasley, you'll have to do a lot better than _that_ to get me to relax." She smiled coyly.

If he was good for anything, Ron never had to be told twice to do something. He held her closer to him and brushed her lips with his. Agonizingly slowly, he kissed her. His tongue flicked over her bottom lip.

At the sight of their friends' tongues, Harry and Ginny exchanged disgusted looks, gagging.

"I reckon we should leave them be before they devour each other's faces…" Harry shuddered.

Ginny arched an eyebrow mischievously, "Besides, this is the last day we'll be together at Hogwarts. Might as well make the most of it. Perhaps my revolting brother and his girlfriend have the right idea."

Harry chuckled, taking her hand in his. "You're a naughty one, Ginevra."

"I try." She sniggered, pulling him out of the Head Girl's quarters and towards Gryffindor Tower.

Ron and Hermione finally parted, due to lack of oxygen. She smoothed his hair down in the back, where she had bunched it up in her fist. He winked at her as he pushed her curls over her collarbone to hide the mark he'd made with his mouth.

Hermione glared at him, "I can't believe you did that, Ron. _Today_, of all days."

"We're _going _to be wearing school robes, Hermione. No one will see it." Ron frowned. He paused, then leered, "You didn't seem to be protesting as I did it."

She rolled her eyes with a huff, but didn't say anything. Instead, she drew circles in the nape of his neck, eliciting a slight shiver from him. His arms tightened around her waist and his hands slipped to rest in her back pockets. She shrieked as he gave her bum a squeeze.

Randomly, Ron glanced around the room with a perplexed expression, "Where'd Harry and Ginny go?"

"Probably to your dormitory. Y'know, for one last snog before Harry has to—and I quote—'Abandon Ginny and force her to acquaint herself with those unworthy to befriend her in her year'." Hermione laughed, "She's so melodramatic about things like this."

"You'd think all of us were being shipped away to Azkaban, the way she goes on." He said dryly. She brushed the long fringe away so as not to obstruct her view of his eyes.

She sighed, "The three of us _were _her chief source of social amusement. At least, until Harry started monopolizing her."

He shrugged, "His monopolization has given us more time alone." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Honestly, Ron, you _purposely _take pleasure in making me seem like a scarlet woman." Hermione blushed, with a slight pout.

Ron kissed the corner of her mouth, and tucked a curl behind her ear, "So long as you're _my _scarlet woman—"

Hermione interrupted, snickering, "I _cannot _**believe **you used that line!"

Ron scoffed, "Me? Use _lines_? What do you _take_ me for, _Miss Granger_?"

"What you are, _Mr. Weasley_." She narrowed her eyes at him, "A sycophantic whipped bloke."

His jaw dropped, "I may be whipped, but I shamelessly flatter _only_ you because I mean every word." He nuzzled her neck and trailed kisses down it.

Hermione rolled her eyes again and extricated herself from his embrace. Beaming, she glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, "I reckon it's time to get dressed." She moved across the room to smooth the wrinkles out of her best school robes, which hung on the back of her desk chair.

"If you wanted to rid yourself of me, all you had to do was say so." Ron hung his head in mock-dejection and stepped behind her. He rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Okay. Go away, Ron." She grinned, turning her head sideways to hastily kiss him. Playfully, he nipped her earlobe and did a little jig on his way out.

_On the castle grounds, by the lake_

Dusk settled upon the castle. Instead of looking up at the sky from the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, Hogwarts professors, students, and their families sat beneath the evening sky. The Commencement was held near the lake, most likely because it was the only location large enough to hold everyone in attendance. The giant squid usually slept until the wee hours of the morning, so it was no threat to the ceremony.

A stage had been magically constructed in front of the lake. The seventh years—outfitted in their best school robes, badges from their respective organizations and leadership positions pinned to their chests—sat in rows of chairs on the stage, and a podium was raised on its own platform in front of them. Albus Dumbledore, the Heads of each House, and the Head Girl and Boy were seated behind the podium. The rest of the professors and the students' family sat beside the stage. Dumbledore had made his classic farewell speech, and it was now Hermione's turn to make hers.

Hermione inhaled sharply, rose from her seat, and walked gracefully to the podium. Shakily, she placed her notes in front of her. Then, she took her wand out of a pocket in her robes and pointed it to her throat, "_Sonorus_."

Slipping her wand back into her pocket, she smiled nervously and gazed at her audience, "Good evening. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Hermione Granger, Head Girl of this year." She swallowed, "When I first came to Hogwarts at age eleven, I had read the textbook _Hogwarts: A History_ in its entirety."

A few disbelieving twitters came from the crowd.

"For those of you who do not believe me, ask my classmates and professors for affirmation."

The seventh years' heads bobbed in unison. So did all of the professors who occupied the table on stage, as well as the chairs in the audience.

"I thought that magic was rather like a science—that all it took was reason, precision, and accuracy to figure out. After seven years at Hogwarts, I have come to realize that while it is all of those things, and it is also irrationality, indistinctness and inadvertence simultaneously.

It is here that I have learned everything that is of great importance. Before Hogwarts, I did not know how to transfigure a table into a parrot. I did not know how to charm pillows to sail across the classroom. I did not know about any of the ogre rebellions. I did not know names of magical creatures, particularly the dangerous ones."

Hagrid gave her a grin.

"I did not know the names of constellations or all of the planets' moons. I did not know—and still do not know—how to properly fly a broom or read tea leaves."

The Quidditch team and her housemates chuckled.

"Before Hogwarts, I—" Hermione paused, and slowly admitted, "—never truly had friends. Hogwarts has and always will be my home. Except for my parents, it has held those I love dearly."

The entire crowd turned to look at Ron Weasley, whose face turned crimson.

"I apologize for being biased, but the friends I have made are the most courageous and kind people I have ever met. And I'm _not _just speaking about the Gryffindors."

Those in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw nodded in approval. The Slytherins rolled their eyes.

"Granted, all of us have had trying times. With every year came obstacles hurtled our way. With every year came a new, but terrifying new adventure to embark on. I have seen a giant animate Wizard's Chess set, a Chamber of Secrets, Animagi, Death Eaters, Unforgivable Curses, and Dark Marks. But now that the Dark Lord is gone, the worst days are over. At least, I like to think so."

Clouds shielded the remainder of the sun in the sky.

"It has been a long, infinitely rewarding journey. After today, we seventh years will embark on that clichéd journey of the rest of our lives. Some will be playing professional Quidditch. Some will work for the Ministry. Some will become professors here at Hogwarts. Others have not still decided what they will do."

The sun set deeply in the horizon, the sky was streaked with purple, pink, and gold.

"When I came to Hogwarts, I was an uptight, overbearing, frizzy-haired, perfectionist, know-it-all, eleven-year-old. Currently, I am a _less_ uptight, only _slightly _overbearing, still frizzy-haired, still a perfectionist, seventeen-year-old witch who admittedly does _not_ know it all."

Giggles escaped from everyone's mouths.

Hermione paused to inhale sharply, "Perhaps what I am trying to say, is that without my seven years at Hogwarts, I could not have turned out to be the person I am today. Upon reflection, every experience (good or bad), every person I have met (again, good or bad), and every professor I have been taught by (all good, of course)—"

Harry turned to Ron and muttered, "It's our last day and she's _still _sucking up to the professors."

Ron shrugged almost imperceptibly and whispered, "I think it's some sort of reflex."

Hermione continued, "—has helped me go through the metamorphoses I have gone through with the passing of each year.

The sincerest thank you that one—actually, one speaking on behalf of many—could give is in order. Thank you to Hogwarts, the institution itself, for giving all of us a haven from the rest of the world. Thank you to its professors from whom I have learned everything, yet been taught that there is so much yet to learn. Thank you to its students, my friends and rivals who have made me less obsessive about schoolwork and act more like my age.

And so I, and the rest of my class, bid Hogwarts in its entirety farewell.

But Hogwarts—do not think that you have gotten rid of Hermione Granger. This farewell is anything but permanent. In twenty years, I expect—no, I _demand_—that when I shall fetch the post one day, I shall find my children's Hogwarts letters wedged between _The Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_."

With that, Dumbledore gave Ron a wink. Hermione stepped back from the podium, fumbled in robes for her wand, and cast the spell to make her voice return to normal. When she looked up, everyone in attendance was standing, cheering. She turned around and saw her fellow year-mates had joined in. The table of Heads of Houses, as well as Dumbledore and the Head Boy Draco Malfoy, were participating in the standing ovation.

Hermione smiled. She bit her lip and blinked hard, but her emotional girlish side got the best of her. Several fat tears spilled from her doe-like eyes and down her cheeks. Ron was the first to rush out of his chair to congratulate her. He scooped her into his arms and twirled her around. Her arms flew around his neck as they laughed merrily. She shrieked as they dizzily came to a stop. As soon as her feet hit the ground, he kissed her ardently, neither caring that everyone saw.

The seventh years tossed their hats into the air. A flurry of black contrasted the rich colors in the horizon.

Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed across the excited chaos, "And now, we shall proceed to the Great Hall for the Commencement Feast and Ball. Actually, the students will change into ball attire, then meet all of us old wizards and witches there."

Hoards of students rushed towards their dormitories in the castle. The adults migrated to the Great Hall. Dumbledore charmed his voice to be quiet, once more.

Snape grumbled something incoherently.

"Severus, you are still in your prime. You must _try _to enjoy yourself, for once. Though I am older than Merlin, it isn't as though I would ever let the festivities end!" Dumbledore patted Snape's shoulder. He turned to Professor McGonagall and smiled slightly, "Minerva, will I have the pleasure of monopolizing you on the dance floor tonight?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "How did Miss Granger so eloquently put it?" She tapped her chin with a finger, "Oh yes. To paraphrase the girl—I do not expect it. I demand it."

The smile on Dumbledore's smile grew exponentially, "I thought as much." He gave her a wink and offered his arm.

She rolled her eyes and took his arm, "Don't let it get to your head, Albus."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He glanced around and quickly kissed her hand.

_In The Great Hall_

"No…"

"Yes…"

"No…"

"Yes…"

"No! I refuse to believe it, Harry!" Ginny crossed her arms over her chest.

Dinner was over, and the dancing had just begun. The Weird Sisters were playing a fast, guitar-driven song. Harry and Ginny sat at a secluded table in the corner of the Hall. Their other coupled-off mates were dancing on the dance floor.

"I _saw _it with my own eyes, Gin! Dumbledore—that old cad—kissed McGonagall's hand! I stayed back on the fringes of the crowd for a _reason_. And that was, to confirm my theory."

"And your theory is…?" Ginny leaned forward, her ear inviting him to whisper his theory into it.

"Really, Ginny, there's no need for secrecy. It's a theory I, along with a few perceptive others, have come up with." He paused, lowering his voice and leaned towards her, "Nevertheless, one can't be too careful."

"Out with it, Harry!"

In the most serious tone possible, he quietly said, "Dumbledore and McGonagall are having a torrid love affair."

"Bollocks!" Ginny cried, between bursts of laughter.

"It makes _sense_, Ginevra Weasley!"

"No, it _doesn't_, Harry Potter!"

Ron and Hermione appeared at the table, almost as if they had Apparated. They were flushed from dancing (and snogging, their mates figured, as well).

"What doesn't make sense?" Ron asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Harry thinks Dumbledore and McGonagall are having an illicit—"

"Torrid. While disturbing, it's perfectly legal." Harry corrected.

"Okay, _torrid _love affair." Ginny amended.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, "Tell me something I _don't _know."

Ginny cast a disbelieving glance at Hermione. "You're _joking_, aren't you, Hermione?"

"No." The older girl replied with a trace of her prepubescent arrogance.

Ron collapsed into a chair and pulled Hermione into his lap. She shifted so her legs were tossed across his lap and she looped her arms around his neck. He tightened her grip on her waist. "Gin, you like to pretend that Harry and I are the daft ones, when it seems _you _are the most oblivious of us all!"

Suddenly, Dumbledore and McGonagall waltzed to the Gryffindor Trio-plus-Ginny's table. They stopped waltzing, but still remained in close proximity.

"Messrs. Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnegan would like to collect the various amounts of money Messrs. Potter and Weasley bet." Dumbledore repeated verbatim what the boys told him.

"Funny that they need you, Headmaster, to tell us that." Ron replied. "Besides, _they _are the ones that lost."

"While I do not condone gambling of sorts, Weasley, enlighten me. What was the bet about?" McGonagall asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Oh, y'know, Professor, um—Quidditch. The finals, and who is going to play for the World Cup." Ron said quickly.

"_Right_…" McGonagall nodded skeptically, then stopped. "You're a terrible liar, Weasley."

Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles on his nose, "'Tis of no consequence, Minerva. Perhaps it was just some Hogwarts gossip mill fodder." He paused, "Come to think of it, the reason Mr. Weasley will not divulge what the bet was about is _probably _because it was about _us_."

"Us!" McGonagall looked scandalized, "Us, as in you and I, Albus?"

"Yes." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. He leaned over the newly graduated and upcoming seventh year and whispered, "Ginevra, you and Minerva have inverted endings to your names, which is probably why both of you have the same problem of knowing what is _there_." He smiled slyly, straightened his posture, and turned to offer his arm to McGonagall again, "Care for another dance, Minerva?"

She glanced nervously at her former students and one who still was her student, "Oh, what the bloody hell!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks and promptly collapsed in their chairs, laughing. Ginny giggled. Ron glanced at his watch.

"Uh, I've got to go to the loo!" Ron placed Hermione in the chair adjacent to the one they'd been occupying.

"You've got a loo schedule, now?" Hermione asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"Er, yeah." Ron ran out of the Great Hall and called over his shoulder, "Be only a minute, love!"

Ginny shook her head, "I really don't know what you see in my brother. Positively mad one, he is."

Harry shrugged, "No more barmy than his lovely sister, I suppose."

Ginny shoved him playfully. He pulled her into his lap and nuzzled her neck. Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Seconds ago, she was in that comfortable a position. That is, until her boyfriend announced he had to go to the loo. A bit dodgy, the whole thing was.

"May I have everyone's attention?" A recognizable voice echoed through the room.

Instantaneously, the entire Hall desisted activity and became silent.

Hermione's head whipped towards the stage. "Ron!" She turned to her mates, "What's he _doing _up there?"

"I haven't the faintest idea." Harry remarked.

"Neither have I…" Ginny concurred.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the two, "You _knew _about this?"

"Maybe." They chorused.

One of the Weird Sisters handed Ron a guitar. "Hello, everyone. I'm Ron Weasley. I was the Gryffindor Keeper since fifth year, and have been best mate to thefamous Harry Potter and the brilliant Hermione Granger since first year. I've also been Hermione's boyfriend since the summer before this year."

Some girls cooed, while others shot Hermione daggers with their eyes.

He shouldered the guitar. "You see…it was a few months ago that I also realized that I had been, am, and always will be in love with Hermione. Even if we're not a couple who emphasizes grand gestures, I figured that it would be nice to do one on our Commencement night. One of the most memorable nights of our lives, without this." He took a breath, "Hermione, will you please come up here?"

Blushing, Hermione nodded and approached the stage. He gave her a hand and led her to sit on a stool in front of him.

"This song is for you. Obviously." Ron cleared his throat and grinned, "You see, there's this crazy American bloke called Barry White. A funk singer, actually—and for some strange reason, whenever I hear his songs, I think of you, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

"Granted, I don't have a deep, sexy voice like his, but I try all the same."

The crowd laughed.

Ron turned to Hermione and sang, playing the guitar to a funk beat, with the Weird Singers singing backup vocals and playing keyboards,

_"We got it together didn't we  
Nobody but you and me  
We got it together, baby _

_My first, my last, my everything  
And the answer to all my dreams  
You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star  
My kind of wonderful, that's what you are."_

Seven years ago, kismet threw three children together. A boy with black hair and a lightning bolt scar, a ginger-haired boy with dirt on his nose, and a bushy-haired girl who helped an absentminded boy search for his frog. It was only natural the ginger-haired boy and bushy-haired girl fell in love.

Ron knew that Hermione was The One. She knew him better than anyone else. Likewise, he knew her better than anyone else. She was perfect—to him, at least. And really, that was all that mattered to both of them. It wasn't that they were without fault; it was that they were perfect for each other.

_"I know there's only, only one like you  
There's no way they could have made two  
You're all I'm living for  
Your love I'll keep for evermore,  
You're the first, my last, my everything."_

Ron couldn't see himself with anyone else. Try as he might, he couldn't fathom a life without Hermione. She was unique—full of idiosyncrasies and quirks that no one else knew about. She wasn't just Hermione, the Perpetually Brilliant Student. She was warm, beautiful, witty, thoughtful, and the love of his life. She was his first love and would be his last love. It was true; she was everything to him.

Hermione attempted to fancy herself with someone completely different. It was an impossible feat, though. No matter what, the bloke that she imagined herself with would always grow ginger hair with long fringe and become the laidback yet ambitious in his own right. Before Ron, there had been no boys who she fancied. Not even Krum. The way she saw it, he would always be the boy she fancied—no, the boy she loved. She had to agree; he was her everything.

"_In you I've found so many things  
A love so new only you could bring  
Can't you see if you,  
You'll make me feel this way  
You're like a first morning dew on a brand new day_."

During the summer, and throughout the school year, even if the two had rows, they came from them rejuvenated. Everyday, they discovered things about each other, about themselves, and about what being _alive _was from a completely different perspective, it seemed. They awoke a side in each of them that had been slumbering for far too long.

_"I see so many ways that I can love you  
'Til the day I die _

_You're my reality, yet I'm lost in a dream  
You're the first, my last, my everything."_

After their declarations of love in the Common Room months ago, they realized that their relationship was nothing like their peers'. Save Harry and Ginny's, perhaps. It _was _like a dream.

_"I know there's only, only one like you  
There's no way they could have made two  
Girl, you're my reality  
But I'm lost in a dream_

_You're the first, you're the last, my everything."_

After the song ended and the applause died down, Ron handed the guitar back to its rightful owner.

Ron stepped towards Hermione and took her hands in his. "Hermione Jane Granger—you know how much I love you."

Hermione laughed nervously, "Most of the time." She paused, "You know how much I love you too, don't you?"

He grinned, "Of course!" He paused, "It's a bit sudden, and I don't need an answer right away, but—I was wondering about something."

"Really. What's that?" She laced their fingers together properly, rather oblivious.

"You see, last weekend, I paid a visit to your parents, the Doctors Granger. I asked them something, after a trip to a store for a particular purchase."

She raised her eyebrows, "I'm intrigued. Go on."

He squeezed one of her hands and let it go. He removed a small velvet box from a pocket in his trousers and carefully held it. He started babbling, "We're young. Very young—and I realize that. But then again, my parents were the same age we are now. I asked your parents' permission to do this last weekend after I bought what's in this box—and…what I'm trying to ask you is…" He inhaled sharply, staring into her eyes, "Will you marry me?"

Her jaw dropped. She attempted to speak, but all that came out was, "Eep."

"Eep?" Ron asked anxiously. "Is that a good eep or a bad eep?

Hermione cleared her throat and said, "A good eep." She sighed happily, "Ron, what did you expect me to say to you? A bad eep!"

He beamed, "So, you're saying you—"

"YES! Of course, you prat! YES!" She leapt into his arms, squealing.

Automatically, he caught her in his arms and spun around giddily onstage. They hastily kissed through Hermione's tears of happiness. Cheers of approval and cries of, "I knew he'd do it!" resounded throughout the Great Hall.

Seamus, Dean, and the Weasley Twins paid Neville what was due for their latest bet on the exact details of the proposal. Lavender, Parvati, and Luna wondered aloud if they would be bridesmaids in the wedding. The Weasley parents found the Grangers and hugged them. Dumbledore and McGonagall smiled knowingly at each other. Harry and Ginny ran to the stage and jumped up and down with their newly engaged mates.

After the Triumvirate of Gryffindor Bravery plus Ginny extricated themselves from each other, Ron opened the box and showed Hermione the ring.

"Y'know, Ron, I'm glad you didn't show me the ring before you proposed. I hate watching films where the bloke shows the bird the ring before he proposes, because it seems like he's trying to bribe her to say yes." Hermione paused as Ron slipped the gold ring with a cluster diamonds that resembled a daisy onto her finger, "Although, I must say, you've got impeccable taste."

Ron kissed her soundly. He returned the box to his pocket and slipped an arm around her waist. He held her close to him, cradling her head with one of his hands. "Thank you, Miss Gr—I mean, future Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione twirled a lock of his red hair around her finger, she grinned cheekily.

"I really love the sound of that."

**_The End_**

"Ron, do you know the implications of what's just occurred?" Hermione whispered almost frightfully as they left the Great Hall in the wee hours, along with the rest of the graduates and their families.

"What?" Ron squeezed her hand, then kissed it. He admired the ring that adorned her finger.

"Your mother will be planning a wedding. The first Weasley wedding since your parents'." Hermione sighed.

Ron's blue eyes widened, "Merlin, help us all."

Author's note: Review! You know you want to… Besides, how else will I know how you readers want the sequel to go?


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